Million Dollar Ice Queen
by cherii tomato
Summary: Coffee, white skirt and a very clumsy Ruka yields a less-than-happy Hotaru Imai. Throw in some misunderstanding blown out of proportion as well as a mother hungry for a son-in-law and you'll have yourself the perfect recipe for disaster.
1. Un

**Disclaimer: GA's not mine. Story is mine. End.**

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::Million Dollar Ice Queen::

by

::cherii tomato::

* * *

un

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I am a horrible, horrible man.

That is the only thought that is running through my mind when I step into Anna's quaint little coffeehouse. The delicious scent of coffee and food in the air hit me on the face with a pang. Usually, I would've drooled like a fool the moment my senses are tickled by the smell but today, I am perhaps too petrified to do anything other than to mentally pulverize myself.

How could I miss those signs? How could be so fracking careless? I'm a certified vet for god's sake. I didn't spend four years in veterinary school only to have my rabbit get sick and die without even noticing the slightest thing that is off. People call me Jesus to animals, claiming that I'm able to cure even the most outrageous disease to hit an animal. Yet, I had failed to notice that there was something wrong with my rabbit, my companion for four years.

I killed my best friend.

With a pounding headache, I drag my legs to the counter to stand in line. Five customers later, it is my turn. The girl at the counter, Kiwi, Shimi or whatever her name greets me with all smiles. Her smile falters when she notices my expression.

"Oh wow, Ruka. You look terrible. Did something happen?" Oh nothing, really. I just killed my rabbit, that's all, no big.

"No," I lied. Of course, she didn't buy it. I can see her skepticism. Only an idiot would believe my lies. "A cup of cappuccino. Not too hot please." The girl shoots me a look of uncertainty but makes no comment before busying herself with my order. I take a quick scan around the room. Nothing too interesting. Anna, the shop owner is no where in sight, probably at the back kitchen cooking or something. I spot Mikan Sakura sitting at a table, chatting animatedly with a girl who's seated across the table. She looks familiar. Her jet black hair is cropped into a pixie-like fashion, her pale face a stark contrast to her hair. I can only see her profile but I can tell that she is hauntingly beautiful and elegant. It's her posture when she sits, the way she drinks from her cup that practically screams richly-educated. For a moment there, I almost forgot about my dead rabbit. Only for a moment. Almost.

She reminds me of someone. But my head's throbbing too painfully to fish out a name. Is she a client? No, she doesn't' look like someone who'll own a pet.

I turn back to the counter and am surprised by Anna's sudden appearance. She smiles softly, a little enigmatic. My order is already on the counter. "You look terrible Ruka. What's wrong?" I shake my head and take the paper cup then drop the exact amount of money onto the counter.

"Nothing." With that, I walk away. The headache's still throbbing painfully.

I don't want to go back to the clinic just yet, it's too depressing. Anna's café has this amazing calming ability so I decide to stay. The place is crowded, as usual, and there isn't an empty seat in sight. I scan the room and find a guy standing up from his seat, preparing to take his leave. I drag my legs to the seat. The headache is getting worse by the minute.

When I reach Mikan's table, I'm about to greet her with a smile when my legs feel like they're getting tangled up in one quick moment and before I could get a grasp on whats happening, I feel myself falling down. Yes, I tripped on flat surface. It was all so sudden that I didn't even get a chance to prepare for the impact that was about to hit me. I fall and hit my head on the floor. My cappuccino flies out of my hand

Shit.

I lie still on the floor for a minute or two before painfully pushing myself up into a sitting position while rubbing my temples with the heel of my palm. For five seconds, my vision's blurry. I shake my head once in an attempt to clear my vision and look around me. The chatters in the café have died down completely. I see Mikan staring straight at something with her eyes and mouth wide open. I follow her line of sight and see my cup. The coffee it once held is emptied from it and has soaked into a skirt that I believe was once white. My eyes travel up a purple satin blouse, a slender, pale neck, a strong jaw and a pair of pink lips. They continue to travel up and take in a pair of the most beautiful purple eyes I've ever seen.

I'm so captivated by the beauty that I didn't realize the seriousness of the situation. It hit me after another few seconds of staring. I gasp yet continue to stare. I try to read the girl's expression but my attempt is futile. There's not even a single trace of emotion on the girl's face. I gulp.

This day just cannot get any more worse.

The girl turns her head mechanically to me and I can feel my breath hitch. She's even more beautiful when looked at face front and up-close. Her amethyst eyes bore into mine. That's when I know who she is. I remember seeing her face on the newspapers, billboard, magazines, televisions and more. I remember reading about her once in one of Natsume's finance magazines. An amazingly intelligent young lady who managed to make her first million when she was sixteen by selling one of her inventions that took the world by storm.

But she is also known to be cold, merciless, heartless and absolutely unforgiving. To work in her company was like working in hell, although the pay given out was rumored to be incredibly high.

But still, the words '_cold_', '_heartless'_, '_merciless'_ and '_unforgiving' _ring through my mind, as loud and as clear as a bell. I involuntarily shudder.

With the coldest voice ever, colder than the South Pole itself, she asks, "What's your name?" Her face and eyes are still void of any expression. I can literally feel the temperature in the room dropping by a few degree Celsius with every passing second. I swallow another gulp of saliva.

I'm so nervous that my fingers and legs are trembling in fear. Sweat starts to break out on my palms and on my forehead. "R-R-Ruka N-Nogi," I stutter in fright. The last time I was this scared, I remember wetting my pants.

She observes me with her eyes carefully, making no attempt in murdering me or anything. I'm beginning to think that perhaps everything that was said about her personality was just rumours. Maybe she's actually kind, loving, caring and loves animals. Maybe she'll stand up and lend me a hand to pull me up. Maybe she'll say, "Are you alright? I hope you're not hurt."

But I can swear that I saw a sadistic looking smile creeping up her lips. Oh shit.

Next thing I know, I feel something punching my forehead with an inhuman strength. I fall back down to the floor and right above me are stars. Great, my headache has just gotten ten times worse.

I slowly raise my head to look at the girl. As always, she looks at me with a blank face. My face blanches when I see what's in her hand. Using an expensive looking silk napkin, the girl carefully wipes any dust off her bazooka.

I've been hit by a ba-freaking-zooka.

She does not turn to look at me, her eyes trained onto the item in her hands. "Well then, Mr Ruka Nogi, you currently owe me 8,251,964 yen, for the damages you have caused to my 2005 limited edition Marc Jacobs skirt. An invoice will be sent to you in an hour." Eight. Million. Yen..? Just by pressing a button on her bazooka, the thing shrinks into the size of a mini handgun. She deposits it into her handbag. Finally, she looks at me. Her eyes are cold and unfriendly. "I'd expect you to bank in the full amount into my account by tomorrow evening. Failure to do so will result in legal action being taken against you." She steps away from her seat then leans in and whisper into my ear. "I'm sure you know who I am and what I can do." Then, she straightens herself up before stepping out of the café.

Mikan rushes to my side and pulls me up. "Are you okay, Ruka? Oh my god, that was so scary." A wave of dizziness rushes to my brain and when I feel like I'm about to fall, Mikan clutches onto me tightly. "Steady there."

Eight. Million. Yen? That's like what? One hundred thousand US dollars?

Mikan sees the look on my face and laughs nervously. "Don't worry about her, Hotaru's just—" She pauses. "She's not kidding. But don't worry; I'll talk her out of it!"

There's nothing I can do, my mind's still numb from the fact that I've dropped myself into an 8-million-yen debt. With the scariest woman on Earth, no less. I manage to squeak out a word of thanks to Mikan, hoping that she'll be able to convince Hotaru on letting me off the hook.

Or at least, hold a nice funeral for me after she's killed me.

* * *

An hour after the whole Imai incident, I'm pacing around Natsume's posh office. Even though the room is practically freezing, I'm sweating uncontrollably.

One of my workers had called and told me that the invoice had arrived.

"Mr Nogi, why do you owe a Hotaru Imai eight million yen? Wait, is this _the_ Hotaru Imai?"

How was I supposed to answer that?

After twenty minutes of waiting, Natsume strides in confidently in a dark blue suit. As always, he looks bored but if you look closely, you can see a hint of annoyance and anxiety swirling in those red orbs of his.

Before I can speak, Natsume holds up a palm and beats me to it. "Can you please tell me why Mikan Sakurais currently in a state of hysteria?" He takes a seat behind his desk, in a posh leather swiveling chair. "And what's this about you owing Hotaru Imai 8,251,964 yen, which by the way is the exact amount for a hundred thousand USD, according to the current exchange rate."

"You've talked to her? Mikan, I mean." I'm staring to fidget.

"No, but—" He reaches out to his mug but snarls when he finds that its empty. He leans over to press on the intercom button. "Matsumoto, how many times do I have to tell you that my mug has to be filled with coffee? Get your ass in here and fill it." Seconds later, a petite woman rushes in, all the while apologizing to Natsume as she takes the mug away from the desk and hurries out.

"As I was saying, no, I did not exactly_ talk_ to Mikan. She called me, rambled incoherently for a few seconds before I hung up." Natsume leans back comfortably into his chair. "But that's not the point. Is it true that you destroyed Imai's Marc Jacobs skirt? The white, limited edition one that was specially designed by Mr Jacobs himself for the devil's spawn herself, no less?"

The words '_specially designed by Mr Jacobs himself for the devil's spawn_' reverberate in my ears. A sudden wave of nausea rushes into me, overwhelming me in the process. My butt lands onto the chair in front of the desk. No wonder Imai's pissed. _Specially designed. Limited Edition. Marc Jacobs_.

"I thought you said Mikan was rambling incoherently? You seem to have the right information." I manage to ask as articulately as possible.

He shrugs indifferently. "She was. But I picked up enough keywords to pierce the story together." A few quick raps on the door and Natsume's secretary appears again. She places the mug back onto the desk then bows towards her boss and scurries out. He takes a sip, never taking his eyes off me. "So it's true?"

So I tell Natsume the whole story, from the moment my rabbit died. It's funny really. My day started out horribly, my pet rabbit _died_, for Pete's sake! But never would I have thought that I would end up pissing off the richest woman in Japan.

Natsume listens to me carefully. He does not make a single comment while I'm talking because he's not one who likes to barge in while someone's speaking. Sometimes, you might think he's not listening at all when the truth is: he's paying you more attention than anyone will. It's just one of his noble qualities, I guess. If he thinks you're worth his time, then he'll give you his time. Simple as that.

The moment I'm done, Natsume takes another sip from his mug. "Interesting," he murmurs to himself. "A hearty congratulations, then. You've just landed yourself the second biggest enemy you can get. The first, of course, is Chuck Norris." Natsume states blandly. The way he speaks is so flat that you think every word that comes out of his mouth is serious business. You'd never expect him to throw in a joke. Ever.

I stare at him, baffled, but he seems unaffected. "Did you—did you just crack a joke?" He cocks an eyebrow lazily. "About _Chuck Norris_, no less."

He shrugs and waves a dismissive hand. "Sorry. Koko made me read this book on facts about Chuck Norris or something like that. Can't help it." In an undertone, he murmurs to himself but I can hear him saying something like, "I'm going to wring that pretty little neck of his."

"Anyway," Natsume leans forward and clasps his hands on his desk in a businesslike fashion. "Let's get back to your situation. First, let me establish one fact. When it comes to money, Hotaru Imai is a _stingy_, _calculative_, _greedy bitch_. If she says that you owe her ten million and one yen, you are obliged pay her ten million and _two_ yen. Pay her ten million yen only, the next thing you know, she will hunt you down and torture you senseless. That was not meant as an exaggeration. If she doesn't get her money by the deadline, the same thing will happen."

So the papers and magazines were true. Fantastic.

"You know her?"

Natsume grimaces. "Unfortunately, yes. She's the idiot's best friend. And we've had a couple of business deals. When she found out that I'm dating her best friend, she promised that if I were to make Mikan tear, she'll make me a eunuch."

"Wow." That's the only word I manage to utter before sinking back into the chair. Frankly speaking, I'm screwed.

"Fortunately for you," he announces and extracts a booklet from his desk. Natsume flips it open before scribbling and tearing a piece of paper out. He slides the paper across the polished wooden table to me. "I have just the right amount of money. Take it."

My eyes widen a few millimetres. "Wh-what is this?"

"A cheque." Natsume replies curtly. My eyes are fixed onto the cheque. On the line where the name of the payee is supposed to be written are the words_ Ruka Nogi_ in Natsume's messy but legible scribble.

The amount written is 8,300,000 yen.

"No." I shake my head. "No no no no no. No. No! Absolutely not! No! God no!"

As always, Natsume is as poker-faced as ever. "Great. Fantastic," he drawls lazily. "Are you done with your 'no's?"

I hold up the cheque towards Natsume. He's filthy rich, alright. But that doesn't mean he can fling millions of yen away so carelessly. "I can't accept this. I just can't. Natsume, this is eight million yen. Not to mention, it's more that my what I owe Imai. I don't want it."

This seems to irk Natsume, though subtle, I can see an eyebrow of his twitching uncontrollably. Natsume was never someone who can take rejection lightly. He rejects rejection.

"Ruka," his voice is dangerously low. "Don't be mistaken that this is charity. No. Natsume Hyuuga will never do anything of that sort. This is merely a loan that should be paid back by you. But unlike Imai, I don't expect you to repay me tomorrow. There is no deadline. Besides, I'm not doing this for your sake. I'd rather be dead than see you being turned a eunuch."

"Right," I murmur softly. My eyes and attention are still trained onto the cheque of one hundred thousand USD.

Natsume gets up from his chair while he fixes a button on his suit. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can buy me lunch."

"Whoah! Wait, Natsume. It's eleven and you just got back. Shouldn't you be working or something?" His fingers are already wrapped around the metal handle of his door when I finished talking. Natsume turns his head.

"Ruka, I'm the owner and the CEO of this company. I believe I have the right to decide when I'll work and when I'll have lunch. Now are you coming or not?"

Well, I don't think I have a choice, do I?

* * *

The soft ding in the elevator catches my attention after my thoughts had drifted off a while ago. A female's voice announces that I have reached the fourth floor of the building. My floor. The doors slide open and I get out from the elevator. I'm in a considerably calm mood, seeing that my debt towards Hotaru Imai has pretty much been settled after Natsume's generous offer. In fact, I'm so happy that I'm actually humming a nameless tune.

When I'm only ten steps away from my door, my phone rings. I answer it, but before I can even say 'hello', the person on the other line starts talking frantically.

"_Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Ruka, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so very freaking sorry. I didn't mean it!_"

"Mikan." Natsume was right. She_ is_ in a state of hysteria.

"_I'm so so so incredibly sorry. I didn't mean it!_"

"Hey, calm down there-"

"_I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I tried to talk to her but-but-_"

"Mikan, everything's alright now. You don't have to be so-" I turn my key till there's a satisfying click before pushing it open. The phone's clamped between my ear and my shoulder.

"_I really didn't mean it! I'm so sorry! I tried to persuade her to lower the cost but Hotaru eventually-_"

The word causes my whole body to tense up. "Eventually? Eventually what?" Uh-oh. Why do I have very, very bad feeling about this?

Mikan takes a gulp of saliva. "_Well, Ruka_." She's hesitant, this cant be good. "_After I left the café, I went to Hotaru's office. I tried to persuade her but she wouldn't listen. And then-and then-in the end-_"

"In the end-?"

"_She raised her price._"

Oh shit. "Sh-she raised her price? B-by how much?"

There's a pause. It's probably no longer than a few seconds but I feel like a year had passed before she utters the answer.

"_Ruka, I'm afraid to tell you that by now, you owe Hotaru Imai 16,400,000 yen._"

* * *

I think I should've written this at the beginning of the story but I just don't want to destroy that nice little format. But, if you haven't noticed, this is somewhat connected to my other story, Café de l'Amour.

(:


	2. Deux

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews. (:**

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deux

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"Mikan what do you mean by that? That's double the original price!" With a slam, I shut the door behind me. Kicking the loafers off my feet, my legs direct me to the couch before I slump down into it. If I had just continued standing for one more second, I would've collapsed and probably sink into coma.

Actually, that sounds kind of welcoming, considering my current situation.

"Well, you see. I-I don't know. B-b-but when I went to her office, Hotaru she seemed alright. A-as usual, she was busy with her work but that's _normal_! So I talked to her. She didn't respond. I continued to talk, she continued to ignore me. I couldn't sense anything wrong but then suddenly, she stopped me, wrote something on a piece of post-it and handed it to me. She wrote to me saying that I'm to inform you that the price had doubled t-to-the amount I just told you. It's all because of me. If I didn't talk so much—B-but on the plus side, she has extended the deadline to next week."

How is that good news?

"Jesus Christ." I mumble while my fingers clutch tightly onto my hair. Eight million yen was bad enough; sixteen million is practically a death sentence. Hotaru Imai doesn't want my money, she after my life.

"Mikan, do you know how much that amount of money can get me? I can buy myself a new Mercedes. Or perhaps a used Bentley. But I _can't _even buy those things now, and probably never will in a million years. So how do you expect me to pay that devil _sixteen million yen_ in a bloody week?"

"Ruka, I'm so sorry. Look, it's my fault. It's all my fault. I can pay a-a quarter for you, alright? Natsume can pay" I can tell that she's almost close to tears. In a small voice, Mikan adds, "Please don't hate me."

Her sentence makes me pause. With a sigh and another round of running my fingers through my hair, I reply, making sure to keep my tone and temper in check. "It's alright. Everything's alright. I'll figure a way out. I don't hate you."

"I'm really sorry."

And then we become quiet for a rather long period of time. Neither of us knows what to say, but the both of us silently agree that something needs to be said before bidding each other goodbye. I wonder where she is right now. At home? At Natsume's? At her art gallery?

I clear my throat and am the first to break the awkward silence. "Mikan, can I ask you a favour?"

Mikan exhales a bottled up breath into the phone, probably thankful that I had found something to say. "Yes, anything. Anything at all."

"I would like a meeting with Hotaru. Preferably lunch. My treat."

I guess my request took her by surprise because the line goes silent for a minute or so. "I-I'm sorry, I think I heard you wrongly. What is it that you want me to do again?"

"Mikan, I'm positive you heard me just fine. I want a meeting with Imai."

"B-b-but why?"

I don't know. I just feel like meeting the person who's going to ruin my life vis-à-vis and have a little tête-à-tête. "I realise that I still owe her an apology. For ruining her skirt."

"Oh. Well, I can do that. I'll call you soon."

"Thank you. Oh and Mikan, try not to increase the amount of my debt, okay?"

Even though we're on the phone and she's not even in front of me in flesh and blood, I can tell that her face has flushed. I can picture her, her cell phone stuck to her ear and her cheeks getting tainted in red. "Y-yeah. S-sure. Once again, I'm really sorry. Bye." Just like that, she hangs up. I stare at my phone and my then-alive pet rabbit stares back at me innocently with its beady eyes. A sad smile tugs at my lips.

At least he doesn't need to deal with all these crap with me.

* * *

The phone call came three days later.

"She agreed. Lunch, tomorrow. Twelve. At the Imperial Dining. Don't be late. Hotaru hates tardiness." Mikan's cheery voice rings through the phone. Upon hearing the name of the restaurant, I feel my blood being drained from my face.

"Th-the Imperial Dining? That overrated Chinese restaurant that serves overly high priced food?" From what I heard, the price for a glass of plain, mineral water at the Imperial Dining can buy you a decent meal of McDonalds with drinks and a dessert.

"Yeah." Sensing my discomfort, Mikan's voice lowers in volume. "Is that alright for you?"

It takes me a while to actually force out an answer from my throat. "Yeah. Yeah, why not?"

Why not indeed.

* * *

The next day, hours before my big meeting with the devil spawn herself, I bury myself in piles of paperwork in the clinic. Though they can be done by the clerk, I need something to keep my mind off Hotaru Imai for the mean time or I might actually pee my pants. Natsume had called this morning, wishing me good luck even though he's positive that I will return a eunuch.

But seriously, what is it with him and eunuchs? According to Mikan, the worst threat Imai had thrown out was chopping off someone's limbs. She had never heard of Imai threatening to chop off someone's balls, contrary to Natsume's statements. Not that losing a limb is any better than getting castrated.

I check my watch for the fifth time since I sat down on the chair, only to find out that there's only ten minutes left before both the minute hand and the hour hand points at twelve. Cursing under my breath, I leap out from the chair and run out from the clinic, leaving pet owners and nurses shooting me quizzical looks.

The Imperial Dining restaurant is only fifteen minutes of walking distance away from the clinic. But I only have ten minutes left before twelve so I run as fast as my legs can take me. People steer clear from my way when they see me coming through, a few of them cursed loudly at me for being reckless. But I don't care. A take another peek at my watch, five minutes left.

Another three minutes later, I have arrived at the restaurant. Feeling triumphant at the fact that I'm not late, I hold onto the wall while I pant and wheeze, my lungs hungrily taking in oxygen. When I feel slightly better, I walk up to the maitre d', ignoring his disapproving frown at my dishevelled appearance and sweaty clothes.

"Reservation for two. Under Ruka Nogi."

The maitre d' checks his clipboard. "Miss Imai has already arrived ten minutes ago. It's rude for a gentleman to be late," he quips. My jaw falls open. It can't be! She's already here? Mikan's reminder rings loudly in my head.

"_Hotaru hates tardiness."_

But I'm not late, right?

"Come with me." I follow the maitre d'. As I scan the restaurant, I see no sign of the raven haired devil. The diners here are all well dressed and the whole place possesses this high-society aura that is rather intimidating to someone like me, who prefers to dine in small restaurants that serve inexpensive foodn it's not fine dining, but it's enough. The restaurant, despite its over-priced menu, is busy. The waiters are busy navigating themselves among the tables, jotting down orders or balancing dishes or empty plates in a trained fashion on their trays.

But I realize that we are not going to dine in the main area as the maitre d' walks further and further away from it. "Wait—where are we going?"

He doesn't answer but keeps walking. We reach a more secluded part of the restaurant where all the private dining rooms are. Even on a normal basis, private dining rooms will probably set you back a few thousand yen. But in Imperial Dining... My stomach twists itself into knots. The maitre d' stops in front of a door where a big, buff, menacing bodyguard is standing in front. He whispers something into one bodyguard's ear before the latter steps aside, gaining me access. The maitre d' gestures me to go in. With one steady exhalation, I prepare to face my doom. Hesitantly, I begin to take a few steps into the room. But with just one foot across the door, someone pushes me from behind, causing me to stumble into the room and unceremoniously drop onto the wooden floor with a flop.

Not unlike my very first meeting with Imai. Minus the coffee.

"You're late." A familiar voice travels to my ears. As always, her voice is as monotonous as ever. The two words uttered were spoken like facts; unbiased, unemotional facts.

As quick as I can, I stand up from my position on the floor, only to almost fall back the moment my eyes lie on the beauty sitting in front of me. Her short jet black hair, short, but long enough to be feminine, has been pushed back behind her ears, her fringe, rather messily cut, frames the top part of her face perfectly. Her purple eyes, trained onto the iPhone in her hands, are as captivating as ever. She raises a china teacup to her lips before taking a quiet sip.

As I walk towards her, my heart is thumping more and more rapidly with every step I take. Extending a hand, I smile nervously. All my previous hatred and disgust for this woman have disappeared completely. "Hello, Miss Imai. Thank you for meeting me."

Instead of accepting it into a handshake, Hotaru Imai waves it away as if it's a fly.

Flushed with embarrassment, I take a seat on the only chair available. On my right is a piece of paper with Hotaru Imai's orders listed down. With just one glance at it, I feel faint. Incredibly faint.

Stewed abalone with sea cucumber. Braised shark's fin with scallops and crab meat. Baked crab shell stuffed with lobster meat and crab roe. Stir-fried asparagus with abalone sauce. Handmade bird's nest egg tart. Double-boiled bird's nest with ginko and red dates. As for drinks, a pot of the finest quality of Darjeeling tea.

This is going literally going to burn a hole in my pocket. Then again, it's not like I'm already prepared to announce myself bankrupt.

"I'm aware that you'd be buying me lunch today, correct?" She asks without even taking the briefest glance at me. I place the paper back onto the table.

"Yes."

"Good." She places the cup back onto its saucer. At this moment, the door bursts open to admit a young waiter holding a tray with a plate of what seems like the first dish written on the paper.

"Stewed abalone with sea cucumber," the waiter announces before placing the plate in front of Hotaru Imai. She nods and finally, takes her eyes off her phone and picks up a fork and a knife to skilfully cut the large piece of abalone into smaller pieces before placing them into her mouth.

The waiter turns to me. "Would you like to order anything sir?"

As hungry as I am, I have to endure the growing pain in my stomach for an hour, at least after the meeting so that I can have some cheap, inexpensive street food. "W-well I-I-I—a glass of water would be alright."

He nods curtly, committing my order to memory, not like there's any difficulty in remembering an order of just one glass of water. "Anything else, sir? Food?"

"Just water will be alright." Another curt nod and he exits the room. Leaving me with Hotaru Imai all alone.

"So—uh—Miss Imai—ah—I'm really sorry about what happened the other day, in the café. I am really, _really_ sorry about it." Placing a hand to my heart to show my sincerity, I continue. "It wasn't my intention to spill coffee all over your skirt. I am truly sorry. I just—I didn't know what happened. I was having a rather bad headache but—"

Before I can finish my sentence, Imai holds up a hand to halt me in midsentence. "Save it, excuses are for the incompetent." Having finished her food already, Imai places her cutleries neatly on the plate and dabs off any sauce on the corners of her lips.

I have no choice but to swallow the rest of my apology back into my throat. The waiter from before appears again, with another dish on his tray and also a glass of plain water. He places the bowl of braised shark fin in front of Imai before walking towards me to hand me my water. From the look he's giving me, he must be thinking I'm some poor lad who's too intimidated to receive Imai's generous offer to buy me lunch.

Obviously he doesn't' know that I'm paying for everything she's having.

I scratch the nonexistent itch on my neck. "Miss Imai, is there anyway, anyway at all that I can do to make up for my careless blunder?"

"You could," this time, Imai looks at me directly in the eyes. Her beautiful amethyst eyes look like two still, tranquil pools of purple water. A tug on a corner of her lips forms a smirk on her face. It is then I realize how similar she is to Natsume. Both equally cold, though at least Natsume has a warm side; both have the same jet black hair; both of them have very strange colours for their irises, one could call them gem-like; both of them enjoy smirking more than smiling and the both of them are incredibly rich.

I wonder if they are related. Though I highly doubt that, seeing Natsume's contempt towards her.

"Pay me 16,837,941 yen. Round it up to 16,900,000 yen"

Her price almost caused me to choke on my water. After a few seconds of wild coughing, I suck in a deep breath. "B-but Mikan told me th-that it was only 16,400,000!"

"It was," she replies calmly, "but the rate of conversion from dollar to yen has increased."

My fingers run through my hair. "Oh come on, seriously, no offense, but I don't think that a skirt can cost this much! It's a skirt, made of cotton or silk or what-not. Not gold! Even if it is limited edition and by Marc Jacobs, I highly doubt that it costs eight million yen, moreover _sixteen million_."

"It doesn't." Again her voice is calm. Not knowing if it's the calmness or what she said, I'm surprised. My eyes widen. But before I can even assume that she might lower her price or just cancel the whole debt, Imai smirks once more. She finishes the last spoonful of shark's fin stew in her bowl. "It's not a limited edition either, because that very skirt was personally designed by Mr Jacobs himself, as a gift for my twenty-first birthday. In a way, it's priceless." Her smirk widens even more when she sees my face turning whiter than a sheet.

"B-b-but _you_ said that it was limited edition. Not to mention 2005."

"I may have toned it down a little. And I did turn twenty-one in the year 2005." Cool. Calm. Collected. God I hate this woman.

In an attempt to calm myself down, I drain the contents in my glass. I need alcohol. At this moment, the waiter appears once more, with what assume is the stuffed crab shell. I grab onto the waiter's sleeve, he looks at me, clearly surprised by my action. "Get me a bottle of whiskey. The stronger the better."

The waiter furrows his eyebrow before yanking his sleeve away from my grasp, rather rudely, might I add. "I'm sorry, sir. But we do not serve scotch or any other hard liquor in this restaurant, for your information. Perhaps a bottle of rice wine?"

I nod. "Get me the finest one you have."

"As you wish." And then he's gone. I turn back to Imai.

"Imai," I gulp, constantly reminding myself to calm down, "I am_ truly_ sorry about what happened, alright? It was an accident. I didn't mean it. I never meant to spill coffee on your skirt, or on anyone's clothes for that matter. But_ please_, can you please not make me pay that ridiculous amount of money for just a skirt? Even if it's by Marc Jacobs. This lunch is already enough to leave me penniless!"

As always, her face remains emotionless. "That is not my problem. And if this meal really will leave you penniless, perhaps you should have thought about it before proposing to buy me lunch. But let me tell you, I will not pay for this, because you were the one one who promised to pay for it. As for the matter of the skirt and your debt," Imai leans back into her chair, "perhaps you should have thought twice before pouring coffee all over it."

"It was an accident! Jesus Christ! I didn't _want_ that to happen." This devil of a woman is impossible. Seriously, which part of the word 'accident' doesn't she understand?

The wine arrives, along with Imai's asparagus. After serving her the dish, the waiter uncorks the bottle of wine before pouring some of it into a wineglass, then another one, probably assuming that Imai will be having one. But before he could place the second glass in front of her, I snarl at him. "Give them here. She's not having any wine. Give it to me."

Though a bit baffled, the waiter hands me the glass. I gulp down the entire glass of wine in a matter of seconds before draining the second one. The wine is fine, with a strong but smooth taste. Already I feel better by a bit.

Just a bit.

"You can leave." Upon hearing Hotaru's command, the waiter proceeds to collect her plate with the empty crab shell before bowing and leaving.

"Miss Imai, for the umpteenth time, I am sorry about what happened."

"Fifth," she interjects suddenly. I frown. "That was the fifth time you've said you're sorry. Not the umpteenth."

Oh. So she _was_ paying attention to me!

"Not the point. The point is, I _am_ sorry; I would like to make it up to you by treating you to lunch today, which is what you are having now, for that's the only thing I can give you. I can't pay you the amount of money you've demanded, especially not by a week's time. It's preposterous. It's ridiculous." I drain my third glass of wine and cross my arms in front of my chest defiantly, tempted to utter the clichéd "take it or leave it".

She ignores me by gracefully picking her cup and sipping from it, and then wipes her mouth with a napkin. "Well then, we shall meet in court. Which if we do, I will be asking for a much higher price, say 30 million yen? Given you know who I am, you'd also know that I can—how they say—pull some strings? Eventually, I _will _win the case and you _will_ be in my debt for the rest of your life." The last four words were uttered in such a low voice that I literally feel goosebumps running up my arms with every single syllable said.

This is going nowhere. I ruffle my hair and down goes the fourth glass of wine. I give up. "Fine, you win. But all I'm asking is for you to understand my situation. I don't earn millions of yen per month. I have to pay rents and bills. I guess I'm just asking you to just—" Just what? What do I want from her, besides a smaller debt? "—forgive me, please?"

Again, the waiter appears. Holding the last two dishes, the desserts. Imai takes a bite out of the egg tart before looking straight at me. I'm enchanted by her purple eyes once more. "In other words, you are asking me to be a kind, understanding woman with the slightest of empathy, who'll give you her forgiveness?"

Hesitantly, I nod my head. That wasn't what I was thinking but since she'd put it that way. There's a short pause of silence between us. I hear my heart thumps against my ribcage.

The annoying smirk appears once more. My heart falls. Imai takes another bite out of her egg tart. "Nogi, I am _not _a kind, understanding woman with any bit of empathy. I am Hotaru Imai. I don't forgive and I never forget."

That's when I sink in to my seat, knowing that I had lost the battle.

And I have learnt a valuable lesson: you should never mess with Hotaru Imai.

Ever.

* * *

When we exit the restaurant, the sky is dark and rain is pouring down heavily. Imai is wearing a black trench coat over her brown long-sleeved turtleneck and white pants. From what I gather, all of them are clothes from high-end brands. For someone who cares nothing but money, she does spend quite a lot on clothes. Not to mention, she has great fashion sense. I wonder if she had picked her outfit by herself or with the help of a stylist. Then again, I can't imagine Imai splurging on a _stylist_.

Her bodyguard is standing behind her. He's talking on the phone to the chauffeur, telling him to bring the car to the front of the restaurant while darting his eyes everywhere, wary of any sign of danger.

"Thank you for the lunch." As always, her voice sounds monotonous, half-hearted and with that irritating you-worth-nothing attitude. I reply with a curt nod.

As I prepare to leave, Imai takes a step forward into the rain, a purple umbrella in her hand. At the very same moment, a loud motorbike zooms by at high-speed.

"Imai, watch out." I call out. Without even thinking twice, I pull her back into a tight embrace with my back facing the road. The motorbike rushes past us in a roar, its velocity sending puddles of rainwater splashing onto us, or mainly, my back.

I pull Imai away but my hands still remain at her shoulders. "What the hell, Imai? I'd expect someone like you to have the least bit of caution, if not empathy. You could have gotten killed." I hate this woman alright, but that doesn't mean I'll see her to her death without even attempting to save her. I am, in a way, a doctor.

She blinks at me. "Actually, I would've gotten _wet_, not dead. I was aware about the coming of the motorbike and I was about to take a few steps back if you haven't acted with such rashness."

"Rash?" So much for saving her life. I remove my hands from her shoulder and rub my temples with my fingers. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

I stare into her eyes, searching for rage, anger or shock for what I've just called her. But she just replies with a curt "I've heard."

A silver Bentley pulls up by the sidewalk, which I assume is Imai's ride. She's a bitch alright, but she's a rich bitch. Her bodyguard opens the door and holds her umbrella for her as she gets in. I turn to leave but I hear someone calling out to me. It's her bodyguard.

"Miss Imai would like you to know that she has reverted your debt to your previous amount, which is eight million yen. She expects it to be paid in full by next Saturday."

I eye the large man carefully. "Just eight million? Not eight million and one?" he bends his head to Imai to gain a confirmation before nodding his head towards me. A smile tugs on my lips and I allow it to take place on my face. The bodyguard gets into the car and I watch as the silver car drives away.

Shaking my head, I run into the rain, not caring that I'm getting soaked or that I'm at a risk of catching a cold. My stomach is craving for a hot bowl of ramen noodles.

As I run my mind keeps thinking, maybe Imai has a heart after all.

* * *

**You like? *troll face***


	3. Trois

**Boo!**

* * *

trois

* * *

The next day at seven in the morning, fifteen minutes before the clock strikes eight, Hotaru Imai was at her home having breakfast when she was told that she has received a call from her mother in France. Her eyes blink for three times before she receives the phone from the maid to answer it.

"Mother?"

"Mon Hotaru chérie, comment avez-vous été?" Upon hearing her mother speaking in rapid French, Hotaru sighs. Ever since her parents and her grandfather had moved to Paris a few years ago, her mother has made it a habit to speak in French whenever she has the chance. Even though Hotaru is still living in Japan, Mrs. Imai had forced her daughter to learn French so that they can converse in that language. But Hotaru, being her stubborn self, still refuses to speak with her mother in French, no matter how much her mother persuades her to do so.

"I'm well, mother. Why are you calling at this hour, shouldn't it be midnight over there?"

"It's eleven. As for why I've called, it's because you, dear daughter of mine, have been keeping secrets from me."

Hotaru's eyebrows scrunch into a small frown. "Mother, what are you talking about?"

Her mother clicks her tongue in a disappointed manner. "Hotaru, Hotaru, it's all over the internet and yet you still won't admit it. You know, you should never lie to your own mother."

Hotaru feels her temper running thin upon hearing her mother's confusing statements. She massages her temple by rubbing them gently. "Can you please tell me what is it that I should be admitting to?"

Finally, her mother cries out in exasperation. "Your boyfriend, of course!" The moment Hotaru hears it, her face hardens immediately.

"Pardon?"

"_Ma chère fille_, how long did you think it will go unnoticed?" Mrs. Imai fakes a sob. "You didn't even bother to tell me. Me! Your mother!"

"Mother—" Hotaru attempts to get hold of her mother's attention though the older woman continues to complain and moan like she's in a soap opera.

"I don't even understand why you don't want to tell me about him! From the looks of the photos, he seems like a nice guy. Very handsome. You've got a great eye, my daughter."

"Mother—"

But she continues to ramble on, ignoring her daughter completely. "Is he a sweet guy? What does he work as? How did you two meet? COme, I need to know all about this person."

"Mother!"

Finally, she notices her daughter's presence on the other line. Mrs. Imai laughs heartily. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling again, aren't I? Oh well. There will be enough time for questions once I meet you tonight."

Hotaru's whole body tenses up when she hears what her mother has said. "What?"

"We're flying over to Japan tonight. Your father, your grandfather and I. Should arrive there ten hours later. We can't wait to meet your boyfriend."

"You're joking." Hotaru breathes out. The news about her parents and her grandfather return to Japan in ten hours hits her on the face like a bucketful of ice water. To make matters even worse, they're flying over to see her boyfriend which she has completely no knowledge about.

"The plane's taking off now. Love you, ma chérie. See you soon." And then the line goes dead.

Hotaru slams the phone onto the dining table. The butler rushes in when he hears her.

"Is everything alright, Miss Imai?" He asks attentively.

"My parents and grandfather will be arriving in the evening." Hotaru whips out her iPhone and Googles her name. Millions of results came back to her in just milliseconds. Under the section where the 'real-time results for Hotaru Imai' are displayed, Hotaru scans the entries carefully. Just like what her mother said, there were tweets and news and articles about her and her new boyfriend. She taps onto a link to a piece of article and takes in a sharp intake of breath when she sees the photo on the top of the article.

It is a photo of her and a certain blonde male, where his arms are wrapped tightly around her body in front of the Imperial Dining restaurant. Hotaru unconsciously clenches her fingers into a fist as she reads the article reporting about sighting her dining with an 'unknown male' at the restaurant. The sentence 'has the Ice Queen finally found someone who has melted the ice in her heart?' was enough to have her whole frame shaking in rage.

Hotaru fumes silently, but her face does not betray her true emotions. She turns to her butler.

"Yamamoto," she calls. The butler steps forward with his back bent, "get me the car. I have pressing matters to settle. Immediately."

* * *

Natsume Hyuuga's eyes flutter open immediately when he felt the absence of warmth next to his body. He turns his head around, searching for his girlfriend, only to see her ready to leave the bed. With a sigh, Natsume looks at the clock. It's eight thirty in the morning. A groan escapes his throat when he turns his body around to face his girlfriend's back.

"Mikan," his voice comes out as a tired sigh, "come back to bed. It's eight and it's a Sunday."

Mikan turns her neck around to look at Natsume over shoulder. She smiles before leaning in to give him a soft kiss of his lips. Her hair falls across her face as she does so, tickling Natsume in the process.

"Good morning, Natsume." She touches his hair gently, feeling the softness against her fingers. "Go back to sleep."

"Not without you."

But Mikan gets up despite Natsume's protests. He watches as Mikan struts to the bathroom, stark naked. His boyish smirk appears on his lips. "I'd tap that."

Mikan feels the hotness crawling to her cheeks. Nonetheless, she looks at him over her shoulder before wiggling her body and asks, "Like what you see?"

Natsume's smirk widens. "Very much." With a giggle, Mikan walks into the bathroom before shutting the door behind her.

Natsume turns to his side, ready to fall back into sleep when he hears Mikan's phone ring. The shower is already running and he can hear Mikan humming a tune as she cleans herself. Groaning and cursing, he reaches over to snatch her phone and flips it open.

"Hullo," he answers groggily.

"Hyuuga, what are you doing with Mikan's phone?" Natsume recognises the voice as Hotaru's. Curiosity aroused, he pushes himself up into a sitting position on the bed. He rubs the sleep out from his eyes.

"What are you doing calling her up at such a god-forsaken hour?"

Hotaru sighs and mutters incoherently under her breath. "Where is she?"

"Take a wild guess." It's not every day you get to play with Hotaru Imai, so Natsume is determined to enjoy it while it last, though he knows he will probably end up with some sort of punishment the next time he meets her.

"Where is she?" Having learnt how to take full control of her emotions since she was young, not even the least hint of annoyance can be detected by Natsume. Realising that there would be no use in teasing her, he sighs.

"Taking a shower."

"Where?"

"In the bathroom, where else?"

Natsume hears Hotaru exhale her breath loudly. "Are you in your apartment?"

"No shit," he replies. Hotaru curses before ordering her driver to switch destinations.

"I'll be there in five." Then there's a beep and nothing else. Natsume snaps the phone shut, tosses Mikan's phone back onto the table and pulls the covers away. He walks towards the bathroom before knocking on the door.

"Mikan." She doesn't answer so he knocks again. This time, the water stops running and after a minute or so, the door slides open to reveal Mikan with a towel wrapped around her petite little body. Water droplets fall rhythmically onto the floor from the tip of her hair. Natsume takes a gulp of saliva, holding back his urge to ravish Mikan's body senselessly.

"Yes?" Mikan looks at him with her big round eyes, blinking as innocently as possible. Natsume reaches out to caress her face gently before pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Imai's coming over in five minutes," he whispers huskily into her ear.

Surprised, Mikan pulls back to stare at Natsume. "What? Hotaru's coming over? _In five minutes_?" She rushes into the walk-in closet with Natsume following behind her. "Why?" She questions as she yanks open a door and grabs a pair of her shorts and Natsume's t-shirt before throwing them on hastily. The shirt, being a few sizes too big for her, reaches her mid-thigh, almost concealing the shorts she's wearing underneath. A strong sense of possessiveness courses through Natsume as he looks at his girlfriend.

"Don't know, don't care."

Mikan rolls her eyes before grabbing a pair of blue boardshorts for him and tosses them to him. Natsume pulls them on to cover up his nakedness. "When will you two ever get along?"

* * *

Five minutes later, the doorman phones Natsume to inform him of his newly arrived guest. When he reluctantly opens his door to let Hotaru in, he receives an ambush as a fist from her infamous Baka Gun came flying at him. Luckily, Natsume had anticipated this so he ducked sideways and only got hit on the shoulder instead.

"Go to hell Imai," he grumbles at her while rubbing his bruised shoulder. She ignores him and walks pass the man. Mikan receives her best friend with a hug.

"What brings you here, Hotaru?" She pulls her friend to the living room and gestures her to the couch. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Poison?" Adds Natsume casually. Hotaru shoots his a glare.

"Hyuuga, you're at risk of receiving another blow if you don't watch that mouth of yours. And I've already had breakfast, so sit down, dummy. I need your help."

Mikan does as she was told. Natsume grumbles something under her breath and pulls Mikan onto his lap. He smirks when he notices the twitch on Hotaru's face.

She had never liked seeing her best friend with him. Even the mere thought of it sends a wave of disgust and anger into her veins.

Without another word, Hotaru whips out her phone and goes to the webpage she was on before. She winces inwardly when her eyes land on the photo of her in a certain someone's embrace. She hands her phone over to the couple as they look at it closely. Mikan reacts with a gasp and an exclamation of 'oh my god!' while Natsume breaks out laughing, which earned him another blow from the Baka Gun. This time, right on the middle of his forehead.

"Hotaru, what is this? Who's the man?" But after a few seconds more of close inspection, Mikan gasps once more. "I-is that Ruka?"

Upon hearing his best friend's name, Natsume recovers from the previous assault and snatches the phone from Mikan's grip. "What the hell has that idiot gotten himself into?"

"When did you two start dating?" Mikan asks incredulously.

"We're not."

"Then how the hell do you explain this photo, Imai?"

With a sigh, Hotaru briefly explains to tell them about yesterday's lunch and how Ruka had 'saved' her from getting hit by a motorbike. And also how her mother had found out about this and along with the entire world, is under the impression that Hotaru had gotten herself a boyfriend.

"You're kidding!" Natsume throws the phone back to its owner's lap.

"But what can we help you with? I'm sure you can clear this thing up by issuing a statement via a rep, right?"

Hotaru rolls her eyes, an uncharacteristic thing for her to do. "You idiot. I wish that things are as simple as you think they are. I don't care what the public thinks; the main problem is my mother."

Mikan frowns. "Aunt Megumi? What's the problem? You could just tell her everything's just a misunderstanding—"

"And then go through her ridiculous process of finding me a suitable suitor to marry me off to?" She scoffs. "I think not."

"How are you so sure she'll do that?" Natsume asks sceptically. "It sounds like you're just so conceited till you won't consider the fact that your mother might not give a damn."

Hotaru reaches for her Baka Gun but before her finger could even curl around the trigger, Mikan cries out, "Hotaru, don't." She slides from Natsume's lap onto the couch and growls at him. "Natsume, shut up." Reluctantly, Hotaru pulls her gun back down but her fingers do not lose their grip on it.

"I don't even know why I bother explaining this to you, but I know my mother. After reading that pathetic article, the idea of me in a relationship has been planted into her head like a virus. If I were to tell her that everything's a lie, she—unsatisfied and unable to face disappointment—will be setting me up with blind dates. Relentlessly."

Scoffing, Natsume mutters under his breath, "Seriously, I can't imagine anyone who would go on a date with you."

And then as fast as lightning, Hotaru points her Baka Gun at Natsume for the fourth time and pulls the trigger. This time, the fist hits Natsume right in his groins. With a groan, he bends over with his hands covering the space between his legs, tears appearing at the corner of his eyes. Mikan yelps and holds onto him. Hotaru blows the muzzle nonchalantly.

"Hotaru!" Mikan cries out as she pulls Natsume back onto the couch. "Did you have to?"

"Couldn't help it," Hotaru replies.

Mikan, who's always the cheery, genuinely kind girl in the group, casts a bone-chilling glare at Hotaru. "I swear to God, if Natsume and I can't have kids in the future, I will pin all faults, _all faults_, on you. My mother will not be too happy at the fact that you're the cause for the inexistence of her grandchildren."

Unwillingly, Hotaru throws her Baka Gun at Mikan, lest she fires at Natsume again. After a few minuets, when the pain has subsided and Mikan's temper had calmed down, she turns towards Hotaru with at frown between her brows. "So what do you have in mind with this—situation?"

Hotaru places a fist to her lips. "I think I have a somewhat preposterous idea."

"Aren't they all?" grumbles Natsume. Hotaru shoots him a glare, her fingers itching once more. She eyes her Baka Gun for a quick second but Mikan notices the movement of her eyes. She picks up the Baka Gun and holds it to herself, ensuring that it is safe from Hotaru's grasps. The inventor sighs.

"If it's possible, I will need Ruka Nogi's assistance in playing the role of my suitor for as long as my mother is here in Japan."

Mikan and Natsume stare at the woman before them, eyes widened, bodies frozen in shock.

"No." Natsume's the first to break away from their trance. "Over my dead body."

Hotaru arches an eyebrow. "Really now? That doesn't seem like a condition that can not be achieved. In fact, I'd be more than happy to see you to your death."

"Hotaru!"

Hotaru holds her hand up in surrender. "Could't help it."

Mikan gazes at the coffee table. Her bottom lip is caught by her teeth as she is in deep consideration. "To be honest," she begins hesitantly, "it is kindda clichéd."

"Do you have any other ideas then?" Hotaru snaps, agitated. Mikan shrugs and sinks back comfortably into the couch.

"Alright then Imai," Natsume sits up with his back straight, his tone changing into the one that he uses when he's discussing a business deal, "give me one good reason to why I should accept this insane idea of yours."

Hotaru had anticipated Natsume's reaction beforehand. She knows how much he distrusts her and she knows how protective he is of his childhood friend. Hotaru knows that she would've reacted the same way if Mikan is in Ruka's place, though perhaps more collected. To face this little 'obstacle', before leaving her home, she had already phoned her lawyer to draft up a contract in a matter of minutes. From her briefcase, she extracted the contract before handing it to Natsume. Warily, he takes it and scans the document for a minute.

"If Nogi agrees, then he shall be free from his debt of eight million yen."

Natsume looks up at her. As much as he dislikes the woman before him, he has to admit that he's impressed.

The Ice Queen cocks her head slightly to the left. "Do we have a deal?"

Instead of replying, Natsume folds the paper into half. Blandly, he says, "You're good, Imai. You're _very_ good.

A corner of Hotaru's lips curves up ever so slightly, forming a small smile "I know, Hyuuga. I know."

* * *

**;)**


	4. Quatre

**Hi. (:**

* * *

quatre

* * *

"_Umenomiya's café, ten minutes." _

"Natsume?" Without another word, that bloody bastard hangs up on me after leaving me with four words and not even a chance for me to greet him. At this moment, there's a short rap at my door and a nurse appears, clipboard in arm. She shoots me a sweet smile.

"Dr Nogi, Mrs Lee is waiting exam room number two."

The nurse awaits my reply as I stare at her, mind whirring. Natsume's words replay themselves in my head over and over again. Ten minutes. Natsume was never one who liked to be stood up. He gets what he wants. All. The. Freaking. Time.

But I can't possibly leave my job in such a short notice. Natsume may be a good friend but that doesn't mean I can just throw my job away for a little chit-chat in a café.

My fingers twirl a pen round and round, again and again.

Ah, screw him.

I get up from my seat and throw on the snow white doctor's coat. The nurse is still at the door as I send her a smile and gesture her to exit the room first.

"Lead the way."

* * *

After two more check-ups and one minor surgery, I step into Café de l'Amour almost two hours later than the ten-minute time period Natsume had set. I wouldn't have even bothered coming if it wasn't for six voicemails he left me.

Despite the fact that it's a Sunday where people are usually off work, the café is unusually empty with only an elderly couple and a couple of teenagers being the only customers. Of course, there is also Natsume who's sitting in a secluded booth all alone, sending me a deadly glare.

Nervously, I trudge over. Before I can even open my mouth to say 'hey' or to defend myself for not arriving ten minutes after his initial phone call, he casts a glance at his watch. "You're late."

"Sorry." Though to be honest, I don't feel very sorry myself. Why should I be? I had work. As I sit at the seat across him, I notice that there are three cups on the table. A small cup of coffee is placed in front of him while next to him is a vanilla mocha. Mikan's favourite.

As for the cup of tea, I furrow my eyebrows as I stare at it. Odd. Neither Mikan nor Natsume drinks tea.

"Save it. It's not me who you'll be apologising to."

As if on cue, I hear Mikan calling my name. The moment I turn around, my jaw drops as I see who's walking right beside her.

"No freaking way."

Clearly annoyed, Hotaru Imai glowers at me. For once, she's actually displaying emotions on her face. A very annoyed one. Which can only mean one thing:

She's very, _very_ pissed.

The moment she's close enough, I catch a glimpse of that bloody bazooka of hers one more time. Before I can react, she aims and fires it at me, once again sending a migraine straight to my brain.

"You're late."

Rubbing my bruised forehead, I gulp and mumble, "I've heard." Mikan who slips into the seat beside Natsume sends me a pitiful glance.

"I think I change my mind," the Ice Queen grumbles as she sits beside me. I scoot to a corner before realizing that I'm trapped.

No place to hide, nowhere to escape.

Lord, have mercy on my soul.

"_Don't_ even think about it." Natsume removes his glare from me before setting it on Imai. "A deal's a deal."

Having recovered from the hit, I stare at them, mildly puzzled and annoyed at the fact that I seem to be the only one clueless about their conversation. "Guys, what is going on?"

Natsume leans back and places a casual arm around Mikan's shoulder. I notice Imai cringing subtly upon seeing this small action. Natsume smirks.

"Tell him, Imai."

"I told you I've changed my mind."

"And I said don't even think about it."

As they engage in a fierce stare battle, amethysts clashing with rubies, I cast a hopeful glance at Mikan. She sighs and shakes her head in hopelessness. From her tote, she pulls out a rolled up magazine before handing it to me. I think I've dislocated my jaw when my eyes land on it.

Splat right on the front page is a blown up picture of Imai and I in front of the Imperial Dining, my arms wrapped around her. The photo was taken from behind so that my face is not visible while Imai's is. But it's the words printed across the photo that makes me churn.

In bold, red writing are the words 'Million Dollar Ice Queen Spotted With Unknown Man: Has the cold-hearted Ice Queen found her match? Details on page 14.'

"What the hell is this?"

"Something that will probably save you some money," replies Natsume.

Barely able to breath, I stare at him with what I assume is an absolute baffled look. "What?"

"Nothing, just that the whole world is under the impression that Imai has found herself a boyfriend after that 'heroic' stunt you pulled yesterday. Her parents, especially her mother, are _so happy_ for her that they're coming back to Japan from Europe, just to see this boyfriend of hers."

"And _why_ are you telling me all this?" It's pathetic to say that my voice is almost a high-pitch squeak.

"You dragged me into this, Nogi. Technically, it's your fault."

My eyes move from Imai, to Natsume then back to Imai. "And?"

"Ruka," Mikan grips onto my hand, pulling me back into sanity and slightly calms my nerves. I stare at her, eyes widened with fear and shock. "Hotaru's mother is a bit—shall we say—overly enthusiastic. If Hotaru tells her that it was all just a misunderstanding, she will be setting up blind dates for Hotaru and—well—Hotaru won't really be happy about it."

I continue to stare, urging her to go on. "_And?_"

"So can you please," she pauses and flashes her pearly whites, "play along?"

Play along, as in play the part of Imai's boyfriend. Play along, as in be the Ice Queen's lover in the public and her mother's eyes. Play along, as in needing to spend practically all my free time 'dating' the devil's spawn.

Oh, _hell no!_

I shake my head furiously. "No. Oh no. I refuse to do it! Not in a million years!"

"But for eight million yen?"

Natsume's question caught me off guard and I stare at him, puzzled. "What?"

He takes out a piece of folded paper from his coat pocket before handing it to me. I unfold it and read. It's a contract saying that if I had agreed to play the part of Imai's boyfriend, all my previous debts with Imai will be voided. Completely. I gape at Natsume, then Mikan, then the Ice Queen, then Natsume again and then the Ice Queen.

"You're kidding."

"I do not joke, Nogi."

"You're serious?"

"Always."

"I play pretend and I won't have to pay you a single cent? That simple?"

"I assume that you are literate."

I think things through for a moment before hesitantly asking, "And if I don't agree to this?"

"Then perhaps I might consider suing you for defamation. _And_ you will still have to pay me eight million yen."

"You're kidding."

Imai shoots me a glare, even more annoyed than before. "You're clearly dim-witted."

"You can't sue me!"

She cocks an eyebrow, challenging me, taunting me. "Would you like to bet on that?"

I shoot Natsume and Mikan pleading glances but Natsume replies with a shrug while Mikan returns with an apologetic smile. "Look on the bright side," she says, "at least you'll no longer be in debt."

Ah Mikan, always the optimist.

I grimace at the Ice Queen before gingerly picking up the contract. "I guess I don't have a choice now, do I?"

"You don't," she replies curtly, "because you were never given one."

* * *

Have you ever come across that awful feeling you have when you're so agitated and nothing in the world feels right? You see a child laughing as he runs around in innocent happiness and you find it annoying; you notice a girl's skirt that is just a few inches above her kneeand you're ready to lecture her on wearing proper clothes; you spot a guy wearing a necklace with a skull pendant and your mind instantly thinks he's arebel thus society's failure.

Yeah, memorising stuff can be annoying and a pain in the ass, but memorising facts about Hotaru Imai and with her sitting in front of you, making snide comments every ten seconds can seriously rile you up and get the worst out of you. It doesn't help that there's also her assistant who is the one quizzing you.

It also doesn't help when your best friend has decided to bail on you for her girlfriend the moment the assistant arrives and the quiz begins.

Not cool. Not cool at all.

"Birthday."

"27th October 1984."

Imai raises an eyebrow. I stutter. "26th?"

She whacks me across the head. "It's the 25th."

"Likes and dislikes. Food."

"She likes seafood, especially crab roe; hates anything sweet, especially chocolate. She drinks tea and water only, tea in to be boiled before cooled to 40 degree Celsius while her water should only be around room temperature which is 20 to 25 degree Celsius. She dislikes coffee, hot chocolate, coke or any other type of carbonated drink."

"Movies."

"Anything sci-fi, no chick flicks."

Hotaru ceases her tappings on her phone. She doesn't look up from the screen nor raises an eyebrow but the action is enough to tell me there's something wrong. Her assistant probes on, "And?"

I blink at her. "A-a-and?"

"You fool." Imai mutters under her breath. This seems to have done it because faintly, I can hear something at the back of my head snapped.

I scoff and throw my hands into the air. "Well, I'm sorry," sarcasm very much intended, "that I am not your fan who finds memorising facts about you fun and interesting. I'm so sorry that I can only bother to remember half of something so _useful_ so I can't give you a satisfactory answer to your questions. I'm sorry that my brain can't function really well and pay all attention to Hotaru Imai 101."

As I breathe heavily after my outburst, I glare at her. Though I may seem brave on the outside, to be truthfully honest, I am currently very, _very_ close to wetting my pants.

But that seriously felt good.

Imai's assistant is trembling in fear, fear for my safety, perhaps? The Ice Queen herself merely stares at me, unaffected. She seems to be taking insults very calmly. Is that even a good thing?

A smirk slowly spreads across her face. But surprisingly, Hotaru doesn't make a snide comment nor any move to physically abuse me. She returns her attention to her phone and begins tapping on the screen once more.

"Seems like you're not that much of a wimp after all."

Her sentence causes me to do a double take. Was that a compliment? Even her assistant is surprised as she gawks at Imai. Seeming to have noticed the eyes on her, she glances up at us innocently. "Get back to work, you have fifty more minutes."

* * *

"Do you have a suit?" The question came to me when we're standing outside Anna's café, waiting for Imai's ride to swing by.

A bit surprised by the question, my brain fails to conjure up an answer immediately. "Um, yes. I have three at home."

She tilts her head towards the sky, gazing at it before looking back at her watch. "No time," she mutters. The Bentley swings by and her chauffeur gets out from the car to open the door for her. She gets in immediately. Her assistant who's standing behind me extends a hand towards the car, gesturing me to get in also. Reluctantly, I do and the door shuts behind me with an unexpected bam.

"Where to, Miss Imai?" The chauffer asks. Imai however, doesn't answer. Instead, she dials a number on her phone before placing it to her ear. "Mr Rochsher, I'll be over in ten minutes. Thank you." When she hangs up, the driver had already started driving.

As the car moves smoothly across the roads, I allow myself to indulge in the comfort offered by the exclusive car and close my eyes, resting my mind, even if it's only for a short moment. Because I know that for a long time, rest won't come as easily as I hope it will.

* * *

"You see, Miss Imai, that this suit fits this young man over here, perfectly." The pudgy English tailor called Mr Rochsher circles me and occasionally pats a part of my body to emphasis his point as he explains to Imai about the coat in jargons I will never understand. "And as you can see, the cut of this suit and the waistcoat makes Mr Nogi here—who's a bit too skinny—look buffer. As for the cherry on top," Mr Rochsher walks toward a rack where all sorts of colourful ties are displayed. He picks three of them, blue in different shades. "I would recommend blue ties as it brings out the colour and glow of his eyes."

Her chin is supported by a thumb as she scans me from head to toe. "Is this the best fit you can find for him?"

Mr Rochsher purses him lips. "So far, this is the best suit I can offer you in such a short notice, though I won't say it's perfect since no two bodies are completely alike. If you'd like something that really fits Mr Nogi here perfectly, I would have to take down his measurements and make him a new set of clothing, though that will at least take a day to complete."

"Alright, fine. You do that and he'll take this suit and those three ties. He'll be paying."

"_Me?_" I piped, staring at Imai incredulously. "Am I to pay for this?" Imai had decided that I should get a new suit before meeting her family and I'm not surprised that she had brought me to one of the most expensive tailor in town, with its grand-looking store front and expensive wooden wall panelling in its interior.

"Well of course," she makes it sounds like it a natural fact, "you don't expect me to pay for _your_ clothes, do you?"

The laugh that escapes my throat is hollow. I shrug off the grey coat, allowing it to drop onto the floor—which causes Mr Rochsher to gasp—and undo the cufflinks. "Well I'm not buying this because I don't like it."

Mr Rochsher's fat cheeks redden when he hears what I've said. "_Excuse me_? Do you know that you are wearing a suit that is made by one the world's finest tailors? Everyone craves for one of my suits but that doesn't mean they can get it! Fine!" Mr Rochsher picks up the discarded suit off the floor gingerly. He turns towards Imai. "Miss Imai, I respect you, but I just cannot sell my suits to someone who doesn't appreciate them. My suits are like my children, I wish to see that they belong to someone who will appreciate them and take care of them. And also someone who are worthy enough to wear them."

Imai presses her fingers to her forehead and sighs deeply. With a click of her tongue, she grumbles, "Fine, I'll pay for them. I have the money, Rochsher."

Mr Rochsher snaps angrily, "It's not about the money, Miss Imai. I just can't allow my suits to be worn by people who are unworthy of wearing them."

"Mr Rochsher, I intend to gift them to another friend. I assure you that he will not be Mr Nogi." Obviously, she's lying. I really how easy it is for her to lie. People say that when someone lies, there are small signs like the eyes looking to the left or a little hardening of the jaw. But Imai, after scrutinizing her so carefully, I can't even spot the smallest hint. She makes lying look like it's as easy as breathing.

Mr Roscher eyes her warily for a moment. "Okay, then. I believe you, Miss Imai." Mr Rochsher turns back to look at me with contempt. "Get out of those clothes; you don't even deserve to touch them! leave my store immediately"

Back in the car, Imai is looking out the window when she says, "You'll be paying me back for the clothes."

I scoff. "As if. You can keep them or give them to a _friend_, I don't want them and I sure as hell won't be paying such a ridiculous price for them." I turn my face to the other side, facing away from Imai and stare out into the window, watching the buildings and people pass us by.

"You will wear them when you meet my parents. I will not allow my suitor to meet my parents in such unseemly clothes."

I look at my clothes, a grey shirt, a green tie, slacks and loafers. "There's nothing _unseemly_ about my clothes. And I am_ not_ your suitor. I'm just someone who's force to play the part."

Imai leans over to me. I can feel her breath on my lips and I stare into her clear purple eyes, only to see my intimidated reflection. "Then play your part _well_."

I force myself to breathe normally, which is not an easy job with Imai's face being so close. "What if I don't want to?"

With a smirk, she reclines back onto her seat, legs crossed. "Well then, I guess I'll be waiting for my eight million yen and you'll be seeing a lawyer's letter very soon. Not to mention, you'll be paying me a compensation for breach of contract."

I whip my head to look at her. "What?"

From her briefcase, she extracts the contract which I had signed earlier, agreeing to play the part of her boyfriend and also that the debt eight million yen will be null and void.

"It's stated in this contract which you've signed." She hands the contract towards me. "Want to take a look?"

I give her a dirty look, knowing very well that she is not lying and also cursing myself for getting into such troubles.

"I hate you."

She smiles, though it so wide that it actually causes her to narrow her eyes, it's nowhere near genuine. She's merely mocking me. "Guess what," she murmurs and leans her head back to the headrest, "I don't really care."

* * *

The car ride was approximately forty-five minutes before we arrive at the Imai Tower. Looking out from the window, I'm amazed at the majestic high-rise building that was only build with nothing but simple things like cement, sand, metal and glass. Yet couple these simple items with the amazing human mind and intelligence, one will actually be able to build something this huge and sturdy, practically tall enough to touch the sky.

I know that this is a pretty common sight in the 21st century and in a metropolis like Tokyo, but I'm still allowed to be in a state of awe, aren't I?

The car stops at the front entrance where only one or two people in their neatly pressed business suits can be seen rushing about even though it is a Sunday. Imai's assistant gets out of the car but not us. I turn to the woman next to me.

"Are we not getting down?"

Eyes trained onto a couple of documents in her hand, she replies tersely, "Not here."

The Bentley rounds the building and drives to a more secluded part of it. We stop in front of a large metal gate. I watch as the chauffeur drives towards a guard house, where a uniformed guard is on duty. After checking the chauffeurs ID, the gates swing open slowly, granting us admittance.

We are driven past the gates and after a minute, the car stops in front of a modest looking front door. The chauffeur gets out from the car before opening the back passenger door to let us out. As I get out of the car, I study my surroundings.

The place is strangely quiet. There's a large fountain not far away from us and there are plenty of trimmed bushes planted around. Right next to the door is a gold plate with the words 'Imai Residences' carved onto it.

"You live here?" Imai gives me no answer. From her pocket, she takes out a card before tapping lightly onto an ID card scanner. She then punches in a series of numbers and there's a beep. Imai pulls the glass door open before entering it, letting the door shut behind her. Startled, I hold the door before it can be shut tight and let myself into a large hallway showered in warm lighting and plush carpeting. There's an elevator right at the other end of the hallway. I follow Imai as she steps towards it. But before she even did anything, the doors to the elevators open automatically. She gets into it and so do I.

Once we're inside, I let out a shrill whistle. "Nice." I comment. Once again, Imai is quiet as she presses a button. That's when I notice something, despite the height of the building, there are only four buttons in the elevator: B, L, O, P.

"Blop?"

Imai casts me a sideway glance. "It stands for Basement, Lobby, Office and Penthouse, you idiot."

The rest of the thirty second elevator ride is quiet. There's not even any elevator music. Finally, the doors open and I'm blown away by what I see.

* * *

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**


	5. Cinq

**Hello, everyone.**

* * *

cinq

* * *

Despite the fact that we're at least a few hundred meters above ground-level; despite the fact that we're almost at the very top of one of Japan's most famous business tower; despite the fact that the Imai Tower is freakingly menacing with its glass-covered exterior and the people who walk in and out of the building in their suits and briefcases, the very top of the Imai Tower is nothing of that sort. The fiftieth story in the Imai building is not one that'll make you think of offices, but a house—scratch that—a mansion, a palace that's fit for the emperor. Imai does not live in a penthouse—that would be a hilarious understatement—because she lives in a mansion. A mansion that's so beautifully decorated with the grand fountain in the middle of the room, cool air-conditioning and gentle classical music playing from the speakers. It will probably make the greatest interior designers fall on their knees and cry.

Then again, the person who decorated this place is probably the crème de la crème in the industry of interior designing.

"Imai-sama, welcome home." Dressed in an impeccably creaseless suit that consists of a white shirt, grey vest, a black tailcoat and grey slacks, a man who possesses an air of authority that's only a few times short from Imai's height struts over to us as we step out from the elevator and the door closes behind us. He bows slightly before extending a gloved hand towards Imai. "May I?" Imai hands her briefcase over to him and a maid—whose wearing a complete French maid's outfit— pops up from nowhere to peel her coat off from her shoulders. Imai waves her off as if the maid is nothing but a fly.

I roll my eyes.

"Yamamoto," Imai gestures towards the man in the fine suit, "this is Mr Ruka Nogi. He is—" Imai frowns ever so slightly as she looks at me, trying to label me correctly. "—an acquaintance. He's the guest I informed you about earlier. Nogi, you shall follow Yamamoto and he'll give you a tour around the house. Now will you excuse me," Imai struts away, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

Yamamoto, head held high, gestures gracefully around the room. "Well Mr Nogi, welcome to the Imai residence. As you can see here, we are currently situated in the foyer. Nothing much to see here. Now if you'll follow me and I'll show you around."

* * *

After a tour around the penthouse which consists of visits to the four living rooms that are all completed with a 72-inch giant TV and a grand fireplace in each and every one of them, there's even a grand piano placed on top of a slightly elevated platform in one of the living rooms; three game rooms; a greenhouse that's not only planted with flowers, but also fruits and vegetables used in Imai's daily meals; a study that's linked to a grand library that houses thousands of copies of books; a sunroom that overlooks the city skyline of Tokyo; the outdoor and indoor pool and also a huge tennis court, I'm informed that I've been assigned to a room.

"Now Mr Ruka, this is the room which you've been assigned to. There's an en suite bathroom in this room—as of all rooms in the penthouse—which you are allowed to take a shower in. You'll also find a suit of clothing laid out for you, which you are required to change into once you're done washing up. If you've any problems, you may press the intercom button found in the room and someone will be here to aid you with your needs. You're given a half-hour before a maid will come to you and show you to Miss Imai." The butler bows. "And now I'll leave you to your own." He turns and leaves with the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind him.

I scan the room briefly, there's a bed in the middle of the room, behind are heavy looking curtains that have been drawn shut, a fitted wardrobe at the side of the room, a leather armchair, a wooden coffee table and a simple mirror at the other side.

Right on the bed—just as the butler had informed—is a familiar set of clothes. The fabric of the newly pressed grey coat by Rochsher is unbelievably smooth a I touch it briefly with my fingers. The red, angry face of Mr Rochsher flashes past my mind which coaxes a chuckle to escape.

I undo my tie and slip out from my clothes off before steeping into the bathroom. A quick, refreshing shower later, I'm dressed in probably the most expensive suit I'll ever wear in my life. As I strap on my watch, there's a light knock on the door. "Mr Nogi, have you finished?"

Taking one last look at the mirror and making sure that I'm good to go, I force a smile onto my face and open the door where a middle-age woman in a maid outfit is waiting. "Hello there, let's go meet the Ice Queen, shall we?"

* * *

Apparently I was fooled because Imai does not live in a penthouse with two pools, four living rooms, a grand library and everything else that I was shown.

"We're heading to Miss Imai's quarters, sir." The maid replies when I inquire about our destination.

"You mean her room?"

"I mean the place where she lives." We stop in front of a grand winding staircase and begin to ascend.

"Isn't this not where she lives?"

She shakes her head. "No. Not quite." In an undertone, she whispers hurriedly, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I see that you're a nice guy so I might as well just say it: everything you were shown just now, all the rooms and the grandeur are actually just there for one purpose: showing-off. Miss Imai uses them for her own pleasures for maybe _twice_ a year, at most. There just there to look pretty. When there are guests around and they're mostly used by guest during parties or the maids when Yamamoto's not looking."

"So they don't work?" The four 72-inch TVs pop into my mind immediately. It's a pity if they don't function.

"Sure they do! Everything from the phones to the piano and the TVs function properly. Like I said, they are only used when there are guests or by the foolish maids." To herself, she grumbles, "Who I'm sure will be flayed alive once Yamamoto finds out."

We arrive at the top of the stairs and there's a giant door with intricate carvings on it before us. "So Imai's a show-off?" The maid surprises me when she yanks at my collar roughly and places a finger to her lips.

"Shh," she shushes, "not so loud. Strictly speaking, Miss Imai's not exactly a show-off. You _would_ expect the richest woman in Japan to live in such a grand residence. You can say that Miss Imai's upholding her image of a rich, powerful woman. But Miss Imai just likes her privacy private. She likes her real home hidden from the entire world. Understand?"

Not really, but I nod nonetheless and the maid releases my collar. She takes a few step forwards to knock on the door. A few seconds later, there's a click and Yamamoto stands before us, proud as ever. "Thank you, Ms Mata for bring Mr Nogi. You may leave now. And please remember to watch your mouth." I watch as a flushed Ms Mata does an odd curtsey before hurrying off. "Come in, Mr Nogi."

The first thought that enters my head when I step into Imai's 'real home' is that it actually feels like a proper home. Unlike her exhibit house, it actually feels cosy and warm with all the wooden elements present in the room. Though still consider large to an average Joe's standard, at least in Imai's real home, you can see the living room, dining room and the dry kitchen if you stand at the front door. Most importantly, at least it _feels_ like home.

"Enjoyed the tour?" Dressed in a simple knee-length, short-sleeved black dress is Imai as she appears from a hallway with an apple in hand. For a moment there I've forgotten how to breathe as I'm blown away by how beautiful she looks. The boat neckline of her dress shows off her slender neck perfectly and the string of pearls she enhances the air of elegance she's radiating. She cocks a perfectly trimmed eyebrow and smirk.

"Um—y-y-yeah." Imai takes one last bite from her apple and throws the core behind her. I literally drop my jaw as I watch the core drop right into a spiffy-looking dustbin. Suddenly, she reaches her hands towards my neck and I take a step back. Her eyes narrow and I stand still as her fingers curl around my tie, pull it up then adjust my collar. "We're late." She quips and walk straight towards a normal-looking wooden bookshelf. But of course, nothing is at it seems because the bookshelf slides to the side and exposes a small empty space. Behind a bookshelf is an elevator. Genius.

"Get in." No point arguing or disobeying. I got in and once again, there's only four buttons in the elevator.

"Basement, Lobby, Office and Penthouse; got it." Imai just shakes her head and the rest of the elevator ride is silent.

* * *

"So tell me, where are we heading to exactly?" After twenty minutes of sitting in Imai's Bentley, in a silence that's rather suffocating, I decide to attempt in engaging in small talk with Imai who's busy checking her phone.

"The airport."

"The airport?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"So, we're picking up you parents from the airport?" Imai keeps quiet; obviously she can't be bothered to answer my question. "Where are they coming from?"

"France."

"Ah… France." The familiar country causes me to smile.

"You've lived in France for quite a while." It wasn't a question, but a statement. For once, she looks at me, not at her phone.

"_Oui_. I did. My childhood was spent there."

"Your mother's French."

"She is. You did a background check on me?"

Imai shrugs. "I had to."

"Why? Because you didn't trust me?" She shrugs. "But I'm a friend of Mikan. I believe that should make me a little bit more trustworthy in your list of acquaintance, shouldn't it?"

"Personally I do not believe in Mikan's choice of friends. It is that which makes me question her evaluation on people. Want an example example, Natsume Hyuuga. It is her affection towards that person which makes me distrust her judgements. Which reminds me, you're his close friend so I believe that I'm in some grounds to distrust you also."

What...? "What's wrong with being friends with Natsume? Sure he can be an ass sometimes, but he's a good friend, a good guy in general."

Imai scoffs. "Yes, and so is Hitler."

"Imai, that's a complete different story! You're being unreasonable over here."

A quick glance at her face and my heart races. Not the type of heart-racing when you see your crush, but the feeling you have when you think you're about to die because Imai's current face is scary. I can practically see the fire that's burning in her eyes.

"To be honest, I have no reason to explain myself to you, so I won't. I won't humiliate myself by arguing with you."

I narrow my eyes at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

But I've lost her completely when she returns her attention towards her phone, ignoring my last question completely.

After a pause of five minutes, for the first time Imai's the once who breaks the silence. "Don't speak in French with my mother."

"Why?_ La langue française est belle_. (The French language is beautiful.)"

"It's not. It's bloody annoying."

Upon hearing her defamation of the French language, the anger inside me boils furiously. "What is your problem exaxctly, Imai? It seems to me like you're trying to pick a fight with me."

Before Imai can deliver a snarky comeback, the driver informs us that we've arrived. Imai glares at him for interrupting her but then in a quick second, her face calms down and her amethyst eyes are back onto me. "Like I said, I have no intention in degrading myself by arguing with people who aren't worth my time."

So this is how she thinks of me. "I see. I'm not worth your time, is it? Well, at least I'm not the one who threatened someone so _unworthy _to be my suitor."

Her jaw hardens once more. "Nogi, do you really want to go there? Because you know you won't win this fight."

And she's right. This all happened because I had wanted to save her from getting hit by an incoming bike. It's my fault.

Why didn't I just let that bike ram into her? Note to self: don't be a hero in the future.

Crossing my arms in defiance, I look away from her. "Screw you, Imai. Screw you."

The driver opens the door at Imai's side and she's just about to get out when she throws the ultimate punch. "You just play you part well, or I'll be suing you till you get on your knees and beg for mercy. And believe me, I'm a woman of my words. I'm not called the Ice Queen for nothing."

* * *

For the next hour, Imai and I wait in a private waiting room for her parents to arrive. All I can say is, the tension is the room is unbearable. After our little spat, we've resolved into giving each other the cold shoulder. Heck, we can't even look at each other in the face. However, when my eyes dart pass Imai, she seems to be taking this well, looking as calm as always.

Damn that insufferable, unirkable woman.

Determine to ignore her completely and appear as calm as she is, I train my eyes out the window and watch in silence as planes land and take off. Praying that one of them holds three other Imais. My prayers are finally heard after an hour of waiting when the driver walks in to inform of their arrival. Imai gets up from the seat before pulling me up by the arm and linking hers around it.

"Let's go meet my parents, _Ruka_."

Just so you know, I do not like the sound of my name on her tongue.

* * *

My very first impression of Imai's parents is that they struck me as an odd couple. It's obvious that Imai herself had not inherited her father's physical appearance as Mr Imai looks anything but glamorous. He is, in all honesty, a very average looking middle-aged Japanese with his small eyes, slightly tanned skin and a flat nose. The only that can be associated with the Ice Queen is probably his calm and arrogant demeanor.

However, Mrs Imai is a completely different story. She's perhaps the most beautiful woman I've laid eyes on. Beautiful blonde curls, large purple eyes that unlike her daughter's, seem to shine and sparkle with all the energy in her. She's the type of woman a gay guy would go straight for; the type of beauty that you'd only expect to see in magazines.

To top it all off, she has an amazing, bubbling spirit that's comparable to Mikan's.

Mrs Imai is so bubbly that before we could even be properly introduced to each other, she locks me in such a tight embrace while firing away in French.

"I can't believe it, darling; you've snagged yourself such a fine boyfriend! I'm a bit jealous to be honest." She pulls me away to examine me carefully. "Such a fine, strong build. And what beautiful eyes you have, so clear, so blue. It's a pass, then! I can't until you and Hotaru get married and all the wonderful little children you two will have!"

Hotaru sighs as Mrs Imai is gently pulled away by a rather disgruntled looking Mr Imai. "Mother, you're in Japan, will you please stop pretending like you're French? Where's grandfather?"

In a deep, booming voice, Mr Imai spoke up with a hand still around his wife's arm while the latter examines me like an intriguing specimen. "He says he's gotten motion sickness and is now waiting for us in the limo."

"Yes, yes, poor Takumi. Now can we please be introduced to this _ami merveilleux (_**wonderful boyfriend**) of yours?" Mrs Imai clips impatiently, her silk handkerchief waving at her daughter's face while the latter swats it away like an annoying bug.

Imai places an arm around my waist. It's all I can do to act normal and not gag. "Mother, Father, this is Ruka Nogi. Ruka, my father and my mother."

"Good morning sir, ma'am. _Enchanté._" I can feel the Ice Queen's glares on the back of my head as Mrs Imai laughs and claps heartily. To hell with her No-French policy.

"He speaks French! "

"_Bien sûr_. I'm half-French myself." I say it with a smile.

"_Mon Dieu!_ He's half-French!" Another hug, "Hotaru, I'm not going to accept any other man as my son-in-law but him, understand?" My back stiffens immediately as Imai presses her fist into the small of my back.

Sensing something is off, Mr Imai clears his throat to break the growing tension. "Now, I believe we're all hungry and your grandfather is waiting in the car. Let's say we head off for dinner, shall we?"

* * *

**(:  
**


	6. Six

**A huge-ass shoutout to all of you who have taken the time to review it. Each and every one of them made me smile. (:  
Also, a big thank you to _my-silver-lining _for being my awesome beta. You rock. ;) **

* * *

six

* * *

Typically in the movies, when the average-Joe male protagonist is meeting his girlfriend's parents for the very first time, it's always a very awkward affair. The parents will always deem the man unfit for their daughter. They will try to embarrass him by picking out his imperfections, and make him leave, knowing that he'll never stand a chance.

Watch the Notebook if you don't get what I mean.

But that's certainly not the case with the Imais. As we sit at the table together, there's actually a sense of belonging stirring up inside me. Hotaru's parents aren't thinking of ways to embarrass me, only trying their best to make me feel welcomed and comfortable. Even her grandfather, a short pudgy man with snow-white hair, is constantly smiling despite his quiet nature. If there is someone who is embarrassed, it would probably be Hotaru Imai herself. Especially with the things Mrs Imai is telling me.

"I remember once," she begins again after placing down her fork, "when Hota-chan was probably three or four. We were watching a show together when all of a sudden, she jumped up from her seat and pulled down her pants before shaking her cute buttocks it in front of us all."

Everyone who was sitting around the table guffaws loudly, all except Imai who's sitting right beside me. As calm as she seems to be, her ears have gone bright red. I nudge her gently in the ribs and she shoots me with a deadly glare.

"Live a little, Hota-chan." Mrs Imai says happily before going off with another embarrassing story of Imai. One thing that surprises me is the fact she hasn't blown up yet. Then again, the person who's embarrassing her to no end _is_ her own mother, not to mention everyone else has join in the fun. So it really is four against one.

I guess the final straw is when Mrs Imai talks about how the Ice Queen peed herself on the first day of kindergarten. Hotaru rises from her seat with the chair screeching against the polished floorboard and storms out from the room.

"Did I say something wrong?" Mrs Imai looks at me, her eyes blinking innocently. I look at Mrs Imai then back at the door which Hotaru has just walked out from. Guilt is starting to form in the pit of my stomach and it doesn't feel good.

Damn, as insufferable as that woman is, it's a surprise to find myself actually _caring_ about her feelings.

I throw the napkin spread out on my lap onto the table before getting up. "Excuse me for a moment," I say hastily and run out.

According to the waiters, Imai had gone to the ladies room. Well since I can't go in without being labelled as a pervert, freak, or just get slapped by women, he only thing I can do is wait for her outside patiently.

After ten minutes, she steps out from it. My presence unknown to Imai and I grab onto her wrist, startling her in the process.

"Hey,"

She glares at me. "What?"

"You alright?"

Imai looks away and pulls her wrist away from my grip, but she still stands there with me, eyes staring across the room, head held high as always. "I'm fine. Aren't you supposed to be with my mother, laughing about me?"

There's an edge in her voice and I'm surprised when I realize that her words seemed to sting. "I'm sorry."

Imai waves my apology away. "Whatever. Should have known that this is a mistake from the very beginning."

"Come on, Imai. It's just me. I promise I won't tell anyone." The unhappiness lingers in her eyes. "Lighten up, Imai. Those things happened when you were just a kid. We do stupid stuff when we're kids."

"Whatever," she mumbles and is about to walk away until I hold onto her wrist once again.

"Imai, please, come on." No response. "Look, I'm sorry that I laughed. I really am. If it'll make you feel any better, I promise I won't laugh along the next time. If that's still not enough, tell you what, if you ever meet my mother, I'll make sure that she tells you all my embarrassing childhood stories, alright?"

I seriously don't know what made me say that, but all I want is her to stop being so pissed.

Which she does for a small malicious grin appears on her face seconds later. "You're not going back on your word, are you? For I've recorded every single word you've just said."

Oh crap.

"You what?"

Hotaru taps her amethyst earring, or at least what I thought was an earring. "I'm holding you to your words, Nogi." With that, she walks away proudly, her dignity obviously restored.

* * *

Dinner with the Imais ends on a happy note. While I shake hands with Mr Imai and Mr Imai senior, Mrs Imai embraces me tightly.

"Why don't you come over and stay with us for a night, Ruka?" Mrs Imai says with a pout, her hands still gripping onto me, unwilling to let me go.

"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid that I have some work to finish at home. So I'll be unable to join you." Mrs Imai looks at me, a little dejected and I suddenly feel that I'm in a rather awkward situation. "Tell you what, why don't we all go out for lunch tomorrow?"

Her purple eyes brighten up immediately. "That would be wonderful! See you tomorrow then, Ruka." With another tight squeeze, Mrs Imai steps into the car with the driver holding the door open for her, leaving me standing with Hotaru beside me.

"See you tomorrow?" I ask, still mildly annoyed at the fact that she had recorded our conversation. She nods and suddenly, Imai leans over to peck me on the cheek and her arms circle my waist. Immediately, I can feel the heat rushing towards my face.

"We're supposed to be in love," she whispers into my ears, "remember?"

Flustered I nod. "Right." And then return the kiss with another on her cheek.

For some reason, the tiny smile that appears on her face sends chills traveling down my spine. "Tomorrow. Twelve o' clock. Don't be late."

It's only when I see the car driving away from my sight did I dare release a sigh of relief.

* * *

Here's the thing about pretending to be someone's boyfriend: it's not easy. And here's the thing about pretending to be the boyfriend of someone you dislike: it's bloody hell difficult and awkward. It's even worse when the pressure of not screwing up is burdened onto your shoulders. Every single outing with the Imais has left me dripping in cold sweat, afraid that I might blow our cover by some stupid mistake I might make. Each orchestrated kiss, hug had to be done to perfection, so as not to arouse any unwanted suspicion.

Fortunately, our hard work seems to have paid off for we have been branded as the 'hottest, cutest couple or the year' by one of the most famous tabloid magazines in Japan.

How that managed to happen is beyond me.

Photos of us hugging, kissing, seemingly smiling lovingly at each other are running rampant on the internet with people commenting on how fitting we seem to be. Then again, people want to see what they want to see. They think that we're the cutest couple when in reality, there's not a day that pass without me wanting to rip Imai's throat out.

Because she really is that infuriating.

Damn that woman.

* * *

For the following days, each lunch was spent with the devil herself to 'uphold the loving couple image'. No excuses were entertained. Failure to show was punished with Imai appearing magically in my living room, sipping tea along with two buff bodyguards standing beside her.

That incident had almost scared the crap out of me.

"We really should try to get along," Imai says suddenly when we were having lunch a week after her parents arrival, "I just found out that they won't be leaving so soon."

My fork drops with a loud clang. "What?"

Imai shrugs nonchalantly, piercing a piece of strawberry before holding it out towards me. Automatically, I reach over to take a bite out of it before realizing how 'cute and couple-y' it must've seen to the rest of the world. Immediately, I can feel my ears burning.

The act has been going on for too long.

"Though I'm not surprised. I've been expecting this." She holds out a grape but I refuse to bend out to eat it. Imai shrugs and places it in her mouth before chewing. "My parents will be leaving after my grandfather's birthday which be taking place at the end of this month."

Oh boy. Oh crap. "You're kidding."

An eyebrow of hers twitches slightly. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"_The end of this month?_ I have to put up with you for a month? For a _month?_" A week was hard enough but a month?

"Is that a problem, klutz?"

That simple word was enough to just shut me up completely. What Imai's trying to convey is: you brought this onto yourself. The skirt, the hug.

I signed up for this myself.

I swallow the anger back down along with a spoonful of crème brulee. "No."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

"I refuse to put up this any longer."

With a skilful throw, Natsume's dart, once again, hits right in the middle of the dartboard while I'm left alone mulling in my own misery while nursing a glass of whiskey.

"Bullseye," he mumbles and walks over to retrieve his darts before taking his seat beside me with a sigh. "Ruka, what do you want me to do? What are you _expecting_ me to do? I might not sound like a friend if I say this but _you_ got yourself into this mess. Don't expect _me_ to get you out."

Ouch. What a way to cheer me up. Natsume picks up a glass before pouring himself a drink. I knock back the remaining liquid in my glass. "Gee, thanks."

"You're worse than Mikan on her period." He mumbles, clearly annoyed by my incessant rants. But I can't help myself since he's the only person I can complain to. Mikan won't take too lightly at my complaint towards her best friend; Imai is obviously out of the question, considering she's the centre of my rants. So it just leaves Natsume as the only option.

I bury my face in my hands. "I just realized how lonely I really am."

Natsume pats me on the back. "Stop sulking. You kno—" But before he can continue, his phone rings. "Sorry." And he answers the call.

My attention moves to the people that are in the pub. A few are dancing; some are playing darts; others are sitting by the bar, tending to their drinks; a couple of them are obviously drunk with their brazen actions and their drooping eyelids.

There's a pat on my arm and I turn to find Natsume standing up, a myriad of emotions displaying on his face. Something's wrong. His face has turned to a ghastly shade of white.

"Ruka," he begins. "Something's happened. We need to go to the hospital, _now_."

* * *

Natsume's in a complete mess when we barge into the hospital. His face is covered in sweat, and the words that escape his lips are all gibberish. It took me a while to decipher his sentence and translate it to the nurse that was on duty in the information counter. The moment the information we are seeking comes out from her mouth, Natsume has already dashed away, leaving me to chase after him.

We hear her voice before anything else.

"I'm perfectly_ fine_, Hotaru. Really."

Natsume and I find a somewhat healthy-looking Mikan lying on the bed with Hotaru Imai standing beside her. The both of them whipped their heads towards us when they notice the presence of two newcomers. Natsume immediately runs over to envelope the brunette in a tight hug.

"Are you alright?" Natsume pulls her away and examines her carefully. "What happened? What did the doctor say? Imai said you fainted. What the _hell_ was going on?"

"What happened was this idiot over her went on without water for thirty hours. So obviously she's dehydrated." Imai rolls her eyes and mouths, "Stupid."

"You what?" Our exclamation came together at once and a nearby nurse sends us a disapproving glare and shushes us.

Mikan tugs onto Natsume's sleeve. "I'm fine now, so you don't have to worry. Really. The doctor said that I can leave whenever I feel fine. And I _am_ fine now. So, calm down, Natsume."

Natsume's grip on his girlfriend tightens. "How the fuck can you tell me to calm down? Imai called me out of nowhere, telling me that you've fainted because you haven't been drinking any water _for the past twenty hours_? And what the hell were you _thinking_? _Twenty hours without water_? Are you _mad_, woman? Do you need me to call you every minute to remind you to get a cup of water? What is wrong with you, you idiot?"

The brunette sighs. "I was busy with the upcoming exhibition in the gallery. And I didn't _feel_ like drinking any water." Mikan ends her sentence with a nonchalant shrug, which seems to anger Natsume even more.

"You _idiot_," he hissed, "you didn't _feel_ like drinking water? _What kind of excuse is that?_ I thought you bring your bottle to work every day? And doesn't your gallery have water? But seriously, woman, _you didn't feel like drinking water?_ Are you really that _stupid_?"

"I do bring it," Mikan cried out, indignant, "but I _finished_ it and then I was so busy with work and the assistant took a day off and there was a water outage in the gallery and I had to spend a night there, working, and _yes_, I _really didn't feel like drinking water!_"

"_Well, it doesn't matter!_ I don't care if you're too busy or if there's no water in your gallery, you could've gone to a fucking _mini mart_ and buy yourself a _huge bottle of water_. You need to drink _some_ water _every, single, hour! God_, you can be such an _idiot_ sometimes!"

Imai flickers a glance at me before announcing, "I'm leaving. You two can sort this out yourself."

I look at the arguing couple. Natsume's face has gone red while Mikan was just a few shades behind him. "I'll come with you."

Between Imai and the arguing duo, I'd rather pick Imai.

It's when we've entered the elevator did I start hearing sobs coming from the Ice Queen. I look over to see her rubbing the tears out from her eyes. I'm just about to put my arms around her to comfort her when she mutters darkly, "Don't touch me."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Sorry."

We're silent for a few seconds before I ask, "Do you want to talk about it?" Which she replies with a 'shut up'.

The silence that followed is unbearable, with only Imai trying to muffle her sobs with her hand.

There have been many, many times when we're just quiet and not talking. I mean, it's nothing new. But most of that time was because I'm pissed off by her and Imai's just, well, being her anti-social self. Now, with her sobbing uncontrollably, saying that the situation's awkward would be an understatement.

I hand her my napkin, since that's the only thing I can think of doing. She accepts it without a word and wipes her tears away.

To see a girl crying is bad enough, but Imai? The woman who barely shows any emotions on a daily basis? To see her cry just renders me speechless.

"You want a hug?" I ask her when we step out from the elevator. She nods and I automatically wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Imai does the same thing.

For some reason, right this moment, the simple position of our arms around each other feels strange and foreign. I mean, ever since we became a 'couple', it was a common sight to see this. But all previous kissing and hugging had been acts, just trying to show the world—and her parents—that we're a couple. But to actually voluntarily do it, to actually hold her this close because I _want_ to, feels really weird.

"So where are you going?"

Imai's reply is short. "Home."

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Imai gives me a 'are you serious?' look. Only then do I remember that she probably has a driver waiting for her somewhere, as always. Not to mention, my car's not with me since I came to the hospital with Natsume. "Sorry. That was a stupid question."

"Not your first."

For some reason, her witty remark causes a grin to appear on my lips. I guess I'm just happy the Imai I know and familiar with is back and not the gloomy one that was here moments ago.

We exit the building and sure enough, her car and her driver are waiting for her already. I let go of her. "Guess I'll see you soon."

I'm surprise that her hand remains around my waist. Her amethyst eyes set themselves at me, looking at me straight in the eyes. "Would you like to stay over tonight? I'm sure my mother will be happy to see you." Her voice is soft but I catch the words all right. My eyes widen.

"Stay over?" I dig my ears with a finger, trying to figure out if I've heard her correctly. "Imai, I heard you correctly right?"

She narrows her eyes. "I'm sure you did."

I ponder over her invitation for a second. "Sure. I guess one night won't hurt." So I jump into the car with her as it cruises off towards the Imai Tower.

As I lay on probably the most expensive bed I will ever sleep in, a sudden thought hits me: what if one day, I actually fall for the Ice Queen I've once sworn to hate? What if I find myself actually wanting to hold her, hug her and kiss her?

What if one day, it happens the other way around…?

…

…

Nah, that's not gonna happen.

* * *

**:P**


	7. Sept

**Beta-ed by _my-silver-lining_**

* * *

sept

* * *

To celebrate Professor Takumi Imai's 80th birthday, the Imais will be throwing a 'small' party with a guest-list of approximately five hundred people, most of them being business associates, politicians, multi-billionaire tycoons and even a few movie stars added into the mix.

To put it simply: there will be a whole bunch of famous hotshots will be attending Prof. Takumi Imai's birthday party.

And to pull off such a big-scale event, there's no doubt that massive preparations need to be done. Even though the party is at least three weeks away, the Imais are as busy, planning, preparing, and making sure that everything is perfect for the party, from the food to the invitations cards.

And for some reason, I was wrapped into the middle of this ordeal.

"What do you mean by you have nothing to do with this?" Mrs Imai—or Megumi, as that's what she's insisting I call her—narrows her eyes into slits. "You are a part of this family, so _of course_ you should be involved in Takumi's birthday preparations. Don't worry about messing up, I trust your judgements. Though," she said in a softer voice, "I'd understand if you're busy." And that's when she releases the puppy-dog eyes that I'm so vulnerable against.

So what else could I have said besides yes?

* * *

Unfortunately, I didn't know what I was signing up for.

With a frustrated sigh, I snatch up my phone from the table and punch in Hotaru Imai's private number. She picks up on the third ring.

"I can't do this."

There's a four-second pause on the other line and I tap my fingers against the table impatiently. I eye the god-awful note stuck to the computer on the table.

"What do you mean you can't do this?" Her voice is clipped, obviously she's busy.

I snatch the sticky-note and wave it in the air, as if she can see me. "This. This message you left an hour ago. Do you really expect me to be able to go off work on such a short notice just to go _cake-tasting_ and _shopping _for guest souvenirs? Woman, you're kidding right?"

"Ruka Nogi, I swear, if you ask me one more time on whether I'm kidding, I will slap you," she threatens in a mild tone. "To answer your first question, yes. I do expect you to take the day off."

This woman is impossible. And I'm not even kidding. I run a hand through my hair. "Imai, you and I both know that this is all a set-up, this 'relationship' we have. So _why_ do I need to be tangled up with all your family affairs?"

"Ruka," she mutters in that patronizing tone of hers which she's constantly using, "it is because my mom wants you to meddle in our affairs. Besides, I clearly remember you making a verbal contract on agreeing to take part in all preparations for the party with my mother. Though I'd have to admit, I'm not exactly pleased with this arrangement either."

"If you're not pleased with it, then _let me go_," I grumble through gritted teeth. The a few quick raps at the door and a nurse steps in, ready to announce my next appointment. But before she can say a word, I hold up a finger to silence her. I tell her two give me five minutes. She nods—though with a disapproving frown—and the door closes behind her.

"No," she replies, "not when I need an assistant in these troublesome work."

"You already have an assistant!" I cry out loudly. "_Three_, in fact."

"Yes, indeed. But that would mean_ paying_ them for working overtime. Why pay when I can have an assistant for free?"

By assistant, she means me of course. I can practically see her smiling that sadistic little smile of hers. "_Hell no_, Imai! I have work to do and I can't possibly take the day off so that I can _eat cake and go shopping_, not to mention with _you_. I have _work_ to do, just so you know. And it does not include being your assistant for free. My bills aren't going to pay themselves you know."

"Neither is that eight million yen debt you owe me."

Well that shut me up. My throat goes dry immediately.

There's a moment of silence before Imai speaks again. "See you at twelve?"

"Yeah. You know it." I sigh, knowing that once again, Imai has won.

Again.

* * *

After spending the entire afternoon hopping from bakery to bakery, trying out all sorts of cake on the market before picking out the perfect one, shopping for souvenirs mixed with a bunch of arguments on differing opinions in between, we're sitting at Anna's café for dinner. Imai's having a salad while I just settle for my third cup of espresso. The sickening sweetness from the cakes is still lingering in my mouth that not even after two cups of the blackest and most bitter coffee can wash away.

I raise the cup to my lips, only to realize that there's only a drop of liquid left. With a groan, I lift up the cup when the girl working at counter looks at me.

"You won't be able to sleep if you keep this up."

I snort at her comment, too tired to do anything else.

"As if you care," I mutter. Minutes later, a waitress stops by the table to place down a piping hot cup of coffee.

But just before she leaves, she places a hand on my shoulder in a friendly way with an equally friendly smile that's mixed with a tinge of—pity, is it?

"Go easy on them. It _is _evening." And then she walks off to another table.

As I eye the black liquid in the cup, I muse over the waitress' words, pondering if I should stop now and just order a glass of water instead.

"You look like your cat just died."

I flicked my eyes onto Imai whose attention is still on the huge plate of crab roe salad before her. "I don't own a cat. But my rabbit, on the other hand, did die a while ago. Which, now that I think about it, is the entire reason why I'm sitting here with you, being caught up in this ridiculous mess."

Without really giving it a second thought, I pick up a fork and just before I can pick up a bit of crab roe from her—did I mention humongous?—plate of salad, Imai's pointing her Baka gun at my temple.

"Don't even think about it." Imai's voice is low and menacing and is almost enough for me to run away and hide in a cave. I take a deep breath, calm myself down, place the fork back into its previous place and hold up my hands.

Imai tosses her gun back into her bag while I breathe out a sigh of relief. Crazy, mentally disturbed devil-of-a-woman that reeks of insanity.

"Mikan?"

I look up to Imai once more and see that troubled look in her eyes. She bolts from her seat and I turn around to see that she has her arms around a puffy-eyed, red-faced snivelling Mikan.

Imai leads the girl to our table and sets her down on the seat next to her.

"Nogi, go make yourself useful and get her one of Anna's strawberry cakes." Imai casts a glance at Mikan before adding, "Make that two."

As much as I'm curious about what happened to Mikan, I do as I'm told. While waiting in line, I dial Natsume's number, wondering if he knows that his girlfriend in a wreck.

Odd thing is, he doesn't pick up. The line rings and rings before eventually going to voicemail. I frown and try again but the same thing happens. On the fifth attempt, I give up, reminding myself to call him once more later. Perhaps he's in the shower or something.

As I return to the table, Mikan's already going off on what happened. The moment I place the plate onto the table, Mikan pulls it across the table and digs a fork into the cake before stuffing it into her mouth.

"And then we were just screaming—and screaming—and then he was going on—about how I'm being so—difficult and then—I said something—about his mom—and then he got—so pissed—but it just slipped—and—I didn't—mean it that way—but I guess he—got offended and then—Hotaru—I don't know what to do—" Mikan sputtered with pauses in between that are filled with sobs and her stuffing her mouth with more cake.

I hand her a tissue which she uses to blow her nose. "Mikan, it's going to be all right. Everything is going to be fine." Imai wraps her arms around her and pats Mikan shoulder awkwardly. Obviously she's not very good at comforting others.

With Mikan's back facing me, Imai mouths the words, "Call Hyuuga, _now_."

"I did. But he's not picking up the phone," I mouth back. "What happened?"

"_Call him_."

"What part of 'he's not picking up' can't you—"

Imai silences me with a cold, hard glare.

"Fine," I murmur before getting up and exiting the café to get away from the noise.

It took me another five more attempts before Natsume finally picks up his phone.

"What?" Well,_ someone_ doesn't sound happy.

"Uh hey, Nat," I begin while shuffling my feet, trying to string words together in my head. There's something about his tone that's making me nervous. "So I'm at Anna's café. Along with her majesty the eternally icy Queen. And also your—girlfriend. And well-ah-she's—not exactly in the best condition."

"So?"

His indifference is certainly alarming. Usually he'd be as worried as hell if he so much as hear about Mikan getting a paper cut and would rush to her side immediately. Take the time when Mikan was admitted to the hospital when she fainted a week ago as an example. Natsume was so close to having a nervous breakdown when he received the call. Not to mention, after the whole incident, he had actually phoned the girl to remind her to drink some water. Every. Single. Hour. Just like he'd promise—which we all thought was a joke in the beginning.

It took me a while to recover from the surprise but it took me a longer time to put two and two together.

"Nat-Natsume," I begin hesitantly, "d-did something h-happened between you and Mikan?"

There's a sigh on the other line. I count the people that pass me by as I wait for his reply.

"Yeah," Natsume groans, "we got into a pretty terrible argument."

"I can tell. You don't sound too happy and Mikan doesn't seem too happy either." I pause. "So what happened? Don't tell me it was something trivial like which shirt looks nicer or that you commented on her weight."

"Hn, I wish it was something as trivial as that. Well actually, it _was_ trivial, at first. Then it just grew and things became out of hand."

Natsume sighs before muttering a soft 'fuck this shit'. "Where are you?" I ask.

"Home."

"So—what happened?"

He hesitates for a moment but just when he was about to give me a recount on things, my phone is suddenly snatched from my grasp. Startled at first, I turn around, thinking that I was robbed, only to see that the robber was none other than the Ice Queen herself.

"Is this Hyuuga? Bastard, you better get your ass here right this instant and make up with the dummy." She pauses while Natsume speaks. "Don't sass me, you bloody fool. I'm not _asking_, I am _commanding_ you. I'm not giving you a bloody choice right now. I want to see you and your ass here at Café de l'Amour in twenty minutes or I'm going to release hell on you. You know what I'm capable of, Hyuuga, so you better not upset me.

"Hyuuga, don't you ever forget the fact that _you_ fell for her first. Don't you _ever_ forget the fact that Mikan should be with someone better if it wasn't because of _you_."

And with that, Imai snaps my phone shut before tossing it back to me. "Prick."

"Imai, what was _that_?" I exclaim. She merely smooths out the creases on her blouse without even acknowledging my question. Not that I'm surprised or anything. I'm probably already immune. I sigh. "How's Mikan?"

"Umenomiya is with her. She's more—experienced in these types of situations."

I have to force myself to hold back the snicker that threatens to erupt because if there's one thing that Imai hates—actually there's like five hundred billion things she hates—it's when someone laughs/ snickers/ giggles/ snorts at her. I've learnt that the hard way.

"So what do we do now?"

"Well," she looks at her watch for a quick second, "we could stay here and wait for that prick or go back inside to that stuffy café that reeks of perspiration."

"No it doesn't. You need to get your nose checked." Realising that there's no point in arguing, I groan. "Come on, let's go inside. It's getting pretty chilly out here."

"No. We'll be staying here. Anna will be able to handle that idiot. We, on the other hand, shall be waiting for _his royal highness_ Natsume Hyuuga's arrival and _you_ will be the one to talk some sense into his tiny little brain and convince him to be the one to apologize."

"Imai," I whine. Autumn's rolling in and the weather's pretty chilly here in Tokyo. Stupid me had completely forgotten to bring along a coat to keep myself warm, while Imai's pretty safe with one of her coats from her vast collection. She shoots me a glare and as usual, I'm silenced, keeping the bitchings safely in my head.

"Say," I begin after a moment of silence, "what happened to Mikan? Natsume told me that they got into a pretty huge fight."

Imai shrugs. "According to what I've gathered from the idiot's incoherent wailings, Mikan made a comment about Hyuuga's living room. For some reason, that turned into a fight when Hyuuga said something about not wanting to marry her."

I widen my eyes and stared at her. "Really?"

She shrugs once more. "Just a hypothesis. But I'm eighty-five per cent sure that that's the case. Considering that the word 'marry' came up about thirty-three times." Imai focuses on the road that leads up to the little hill Anna's café is built on. "I've known that idiot since elementary. If there's anything that can cause her to go berserk, it's probably something along the lines of marriage."

Imai's tone turns a little nostalgic as she takes stroll down memory lane with a frown. "She was one to go on and on about it. Even when we were in school, she'd plan out her entire wedding with a silly look on her face before going on for days about it. She had once gotten incredibly upset when she realised that it's impossible to hold her wedding on the moon."

"The moon? Really? How—"

But she cuts me off with a jerk of her head. "Here comes that prick."

Sure enough, the sleek black car that belongs to Natsume cruises past us before parking at an empty space. Natsume steps out from his car with a constipated look on his face.

Imai grabs my arm before hauling me roughly in his direction. "Go. Get him to kiss and make-up with the idiot. It's pathetic seeing her in her current state."

Throwing mental curses at her, I headed over to Natsume and place a casual arm on his back. "Hey."

He replies with a grunt and a curt nod. "Where is she?"

"In the café." Just when he's about to hurry into it, I stop him and move my lips close to his ear. "Look, I'm not quite sure what happened between you and Mikan but—" I cast a quick glance at Hotaru Imai who is shooting daggers at Natsume Hyuuga with her arms crossed. "—whatever it is, just go in there and apologise and just work things out, 'kay?"

He sighs, shrugs, mutters two words and gives me a pat on the back before walking away. Imai is at my side seconds later.

"What did he say?"

"'I'll try'."

A scoff escapes her and I'm pulled away. "Wait, wait, where are we going?"

'Leaving' is the answer I receive while being tugged before pushed into her car. Imai gets in and we're already leaving.

But just before the car leaves the compound, I spot Natsume with an arm around her shoulders as they head towards his car. As she wipes away her tears, Natsume presses a kiss into her hair.

I couldn't help it when a smile tugs gently on my lips.

"What is that stupid look on your face?"

I roll my eyes at her, though the smile doesn't leave. "It's called smiling, Imai. Not that I'd expect you to understand such a _stupid_ action."

As a consequence from my sassy reply, Imai scowls at me before hitting me right on the head with her gun.

"Ow…" I groan while looking at the stars clouding my vision.

Should have seen that one coming.

* * *

**A/N**: Ah well, sorry for the wait. I was busy. Really busy. My exams are coming up in October and I have trials in one week. So better not get your hopes up for updates any time soon. At least, until October. ;)

**P.S: **PARTICIPATE, _PARTICIPATE_, **PARTICIPATE** IN THE FIRST EVER **ALICE FICTION AWARDS**! DETAILS ON MY PROFILE SO YOU BETTER GO CLICK-CLICK-CLICKITY CLICK! **READ, NOMINATE AND VOTE** FOR THE STORIES WHICH YOU THINK DESERVE TO WIN!


	8. Huit

**Beta-ed by _my-silver-lining_**

* * *

huit

* * *

I finally know why tuxedoes are known as monkey-suits. I tug at my coat, my sleeves, my collar, but none of these actions could relieve the immense discomfort I am in. There's an itch on my back that I am dying to scratch but the stiff sleeves are fitted so snug that it's hard for me to reach my back. Eventually, I have to make do by rubbing my back against the wall.

Giving myself a good look in the mirror, I push back the few strands of golden hair that fall over my eyes. Note to self: get a haircut.

After fixing my bowtie a little, I step out from the room and into the hallway. I nearly jump when I notice Hotaru Imai standing right before the door, completely dressed up from head to toe.

"Imai," the word leaves my mouth in an almost breathless way. But honestly, she does look stunning in her blue chiffon dress, folded and pleated in the most appropriate places. The one-shoulder concept of the dress was a perfect balance between sexy and conservative, with her left shoulder bare and a sleeve on her right, draping down to her wrist. Not to mention that nice little split right above her knee. The simple diamond earrings that hang on her earlobes sparkle and glimmer with the slightest movement of her head.

Now if only she could just wipe that stoic expression off her face and smile a little…

Imai rolls her eyes and sighs. "Hopeless," she grumbles under her breath. She reaches out to my collar, undid the bowtie I had so painstakingly put on before retying it with swift efficiency. She gives me one final pat on the chest before taking a step backward.

"Thank you," I say when I manage to find my voice.

Grabbing her clutch she had abandoned a while ago, Imai links her arm around mine.

"You look sick."

I smile at her sheepishly. "A tuxedo is not exactly my type of clothing."

"Well would you like to try out my heels?" she retorts sharply.

I cast a glance at her legs and almost gasp when I see the silver five-inch heels strapped around her ankles. No wonder she seems taller all of a sudden. "No."

"Then shut up and stop complaining."

Jesus. If she's pissed off at wearing such lethal shoes, I'm pretty sure that she has other non-hazardous shoes. No need to get all snappy at me. Of course, all rants remain safe and sound inside my head, where they can explode freely without me needing to suffer the consequences.

Hotaru continues to be in that foul mood of hers while we're waiting for the lift to arrive to take us down to the fifteenth floor, where Professor Takumi's 80th birthday celebration will be held. Though originally it was planned to be held in Hotaru's titanic penthouse, her royal majesty was not too keen on the idea of 'lowly acquaintance prancing around in her residence like they own the place'.

So, in the end, the venue was moved to the largest ballroom in the Imai Tower, measuring up to 5000 square metres with a capacity of at least a thousand guests. Not to mention, it almost takes up the entire fifteenth floor.

"You look absolutely stunning," I comment, trying to strike up a conversation with her. She casts me a glare. Feeling slightly dejected at her reaction, I mumble under my breath, "You're welcome."

"Shut up," she mutters as the doors open and she storms into the small compartment. "Shut that hole of yours before I stuff it a gun."

"God, woman. What's wrong with you? It's your grandfather's birthday. Stop looking like your cat just died." I touch her gently on the arm. "It's a party, smile a little."

"Let me make this clear, Nogi," she grumbles, "_you_ do not get to order me around. So I'm going to say this one last time. _Shut. Up_."

I give up. The door opens once more a while later and Imai is already way ahead of me. "Imai," I call out to her, "wait up."

But she never did and five minutes later, I find myself lost in a deserted hallway.

Damn that Imai.

After countless of times running into one store room and another, I stumble into a nicely-dressed couple and follow them from afar, positive that they are here for the party. But as it turns out, they're not strangers by a long shot. I stop in my tracks when I hear the woman's familiar high-pitched voice and the man's lower replies.

"Natsume?"

The man turns and indeed, it's Natsume Hyuuga with none other than Mikan Sakura by his side. He looks perfectly at rest in the all-black tuxedo that seems to cling onto him like a second skin. The one thing that stands out from his outfit is the bright crimson pocket square tucked neatly into his breast pocket. For once, his wild hair that usually seems to have a life of its own is perfectly tamed, having been slicked back with perhaps a bucketful of hair gel. No wonder I couldn't recognise him from behind. "Ruka." He greets with a nod.

"Ruka!" His girlfriend however is more energetic and she steps over to link her other free arm through mine. "You look great! Why're you here? Where's Hotaru? Shouldn't she be with you?"

"Ah… Yeah. She was. But then she walked a little bit too quickly and I lost her. And ah…" I try to hide the embarrassment that's threatening to eat me up. I scratch my forehead. "I kind of got lost. And for some reason, Imai seems pissed today."

Mikan's light laughter rings through the hall. "I think I know why. Hotaru hates social events and she tends to get fidgety in these situations. Come on, you can follow us."

Voices begin to grow louder as we near the entrance to the ballroom. I see Hotaru standing there, making light conversation with a man—though she doesn't seem too happy and the man doesn't seem to get the hint— when she spots me moving towards her from the corner of her eyes. Excusing herself, she storms over to us before clasping a tight grip on my arm.

"Where were you? I thought I told you to follow closely. Do you know that you won't be allowed access without an invitation pass? Which by the way, you don't." She tugs on my arm roughly as we hurry down the hallway, with Mikan behind us calling out, 'See you.'

"Well, you didn't give me one!" I protest.

"There's _no need_ for you to have one. At least not when you're with me." She pulls me to aside and whispers a warning in my ear, "_Don't _make a fool out of yourself. You are my escort for tonight so what you do will directly reflect on my reputation. Screw this up, Nogi, and I promise you that there won't be a moment of peace in your life for as long as you live. Understand?"

Woman needs to calm the hell down.

"Yes, ma'am." I can practically feel a hole burning through my eyes as she gives me a cold, hard glare.

"You are to stay close by my side at all times, smile, behave well and don't speak unless spoken to. If someone asks you something, refrain from speaking too much to prevent yourself from looking like an absolute prattling idiot, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she says and I can finally breathe when she pulls away. "Come on. My aunts are here and they won't shut up about wanting to meet my 'boyfriend'." With that, she pulls onto my arm not-so-gently as we head off to the ballroom.

* * *

As tonight's guests began pouring into the ballroom, Hotaru and I are situated in a room where all her aunts, uncles and cousins are gathered along with her parents and grandfather. My hands are breaking out in cold sweat as her aunts pour their attention over me and their questions fired at me like bullets from a machine gun.

For some reason, they don't seem to have the ability to shut up for at least one second.

"He's a quiet one, isn't he?" commented one of her aunts. With the perpetual frown that she's been wearing ever since I first saw her, she scrutinises me for the umpteenth time.

Can't really blame me for that since their conversation topics seem to only consist of the stock market, properties so expensive that I don't think I'll ever own, fine art which thankfully I'm still able to give a couple of opinions on—since Mikan owns an art gallery and she could quite stop talking about it—, fine dining which isn't really my cup of tea—even though I'm half-French— and high-end fashion which truly is way out of my comfort zone.

I've heard about designer labels like Prada, Chanel and such but if you ask for my opinion on which looks nicer or which handbag would be a good investment, my only reply would be a really blank stare.

At this moment, Hotaru's assistant arrives by her side to inform her of another family member's arrival.

"Imai Subaru has arrived. And also, the kitchen has informed that the first course will be served in twenty minutes time."

Hotaru replies with a terse nod. "Very well, send him in. Go check if all guests have arrived."

He bows slightly. "Yes. I'll get to it immediately."

Mrs Imai turns away from her conversation with a group of women to Hotaru. "Subaru's here? Oh, splendid."

Not long after the assistant took his leave, another man walks into the room with a wife and two kids in tow. Behold, the five-time Academy Award nominee and also BAFTA Award winner, Subaru Imai, AKA Hotaru Imai's brother, AKA the entire reason why she's appearing not only in business magazines, but also tabloids which is also the cause of why I'm sitting here in this very room, with these people.

In short, he's indirectly the cause of why I'm caught in this stupid mess.

"Family," Subaru greets with his arms slightly outstretched. Noticing me in the crowd, he frowns and adds, "And non-family."

"Subaru." Mrs Imai steps over to her son to give him a hug and two pecks on his cheeks. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mother. Little tired from my flight. You're looking swell." He walks over to give his father a hug and wished his grandfather 'happy birthday'. His wife and children gave them a hug each as well.

Finally, with a cheeky grin, Subaru engulfs Hotaru in a bear hug, which the latter struggles futilely in. "How are you, my little sister?"

"I'm fine. Now, let me go." Laughing, he gives his sister a final pat on the back, then turns to give me a quick one-over.

"Is this the boyfriend I keep hearing about, little sister?" Subaru Imai extends a hand towards me which I accept after a moment of hesitation. "Subaru Imai. This is my wife," he gestures towards the red-headed beauty, "Kristiana and my children, Anastasia and Heinrich."

"Ruka Nogi." I shake hands with Subaru and his German wife. "I'm a big fan of your works." Not really, I've only watched one of his films and it didn't really leave a lasting impression in my mind. But what else am I supposed to say in these situations?

He raises an eyebrow before raising a champagne flute to his lips. "Oh? Really now? I'm grateful. Thank you."

"I'll leave them to you while you get some rest, Subaru. Meanwhile, I should go out to—" Hotaru announces as she holds onto my arm. There's a small crease between her eyebrows as she completes her sentence with a word she dreads. "_Socialise_."

I stifle a chuckle.

"Come on, Ruka."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

As we flitted from one of Hotaru's acquaintances to another, with me lingering behind her as she busies herself with conversations, I can't help but feel like I'm being watched.

Though, it's hard for me to turn around and look for the source in this sea of faces. Even throughout dinner, I can feel the eyes, hovering around me like a phantom.

Truly unsettling.

Finally, after dinner and long and painstaking hunt, I notice that there's a guy who keeps averting his gaze whenever I spot him staring.

Or more like glaring, really.

"Hotaru," I tap her gently on the shoulder.

"What?" she hisses.

I point towards the man who's the source of my discomfort. "That person. You know him?"

Hotaru takes one glance at him. "Hayate Matsudaira. An acquaintance."

"If he's just an acquaintance, why was he glaring at me?"

Hotaru narrows her eyes. "How would I know, you fool? If you're so interested, why don't you head over there and ask him yourself?" she snaps.

"Well, I'm sure I've never wronged him, considering the fact that I don't even know him. Though the name Matsudaira does ring a bell…"

She sighs. "He's the heir to Matsudaira Corp. I understand that you are an idiot when it comes to the field of business, but surely you've heard of the company? Before Imai Corp, Matsudaira Corp. once monopolised Japan's electronic industry," she explains.

"But why is he looking at me like I stole his girlfriend?"

"Maybe it's because he is a delusional fool who thinks that we were once in a relationship."

"We who?"

"As in Matsudaira and I."

"Wait, does that mean you once dated him?" Wow, Hotaru actually dated someone. That's hard to imagine.

Hotaru takes a sip of wine. "_Delusional._ He's delusional. Apparently, when I approached him for the very first time, he believed that I was interested in—to put it in colloquial terms—_dating_ him. I merely approached him so that his father would be able to fund my project back then in high school."

"What project?"

She waves it away. "Doesn't matter. What matters most is that he's a fool. Apparently in his view, a couple of meals and also one or two meetings in a cafe to discuss about my project meant that we were dating."

"Did you _tell him_ that you were just friends?"

"We weren't even friends. You can say that we were business partners." She furrows her eyebrow, seeming to be remembering something. "Then again, perhaps I should've made things clearer. Indeed, I don't think I've ever explained where we stood back then."

"Then what happened?"

She shots me with a sharp glare. "Why are you so interested?" Another one of her acquaintances called out to her which she only acknowledges with a curt nod. "Needless to say, I stopped seeing him after he had managed to convince his father to fund for my project. He was too much of a hindrance. But, I guess you can say that I'm in debt to Matsudaira Corp. considering that it was them who funded my very first project which eventually leads to the birth of Imai Corp."

I allow the information to sink in a little and that's when the realisation hit me on the face like a brick. "You used him. Like how you're using me."

At first I thought that she didn't hear me, but Hotaru stops in her tracks and gives me a puzzled look, head slightly cocked to one side. "I'm sorry?"

"You befriended Matsudaira so that his father's company would fund you little project. For your information, when two people go out for dinner or meet in a cafe, that is a form of dating. Frankly speaking, I'm like Matsudaira and you're, well, the same Hotaru Imai."

Her eyes narrow further. "What are you getting at, Nogi?"

"I'm an idiot."

"What are you _talking _about, you blubbering fool?"

"You never change, do you? You used Matsudaira once, now you're using me instead." Knowing that it'll be useless to try to explain my thoughts since everything's in a mess all of a sudden, I pick up a canapé from a passing waiter's tray before stuffing it into my mouth. "I'll be heading to the gents."

She calls out to me, "Nogi—"

But I'm already walking away.

* * *

It's odd how deeply her words affect me and how they manage to make me realise my current situation. To be honest, there's a couple times where the borders between pretending and reality become so vague that it's hard to differentiate between the both of them. It is at times that really makes wonder where we stand as of now.

But thanks to Hotaru, I got a clear wake-up call.

I guess what hit me the hardest is how much I see myself in Matsudaira's shoes.

But when you put it this way, I guess I'm a bigger fool because at least I knew what I was signing up for. Everything had been made clear since the very beginning. We're not really in a relationship, it's a very realistic business deal, whereby I pretend to be her boyfriend while my debt to her for the damage I caused on the very first meeting would be paid off.

Have I been deluded as well?

If not, why is it that I'm feeling such anger, such frustration?

"What is wrong with you?" I mumble to my reflection.

After washing my hands, I wipe my face hastily and walk out from the bathroom. That's when I see him, standing there. His glare never leaves me as I step out from the restroom.

"You," he begins. Briefly, I scan my surroundings and assess my situation. If this leads to a fight, there's a guard who's patrolling the area. The wise thing to do it that scenario happens is to run towards the guard and let him handle it. Cowardly, I know, but I have not forgotten Hotaru's warning about how my actions will reflect on her.

Compared to receiving a punishment from the Ice Queen, I'd rather be a ball-less wuss.

"Yes?" I decide to tread carefully. There's no saying what might happen, considering the dirty looks I've been receiving from this person.

"You better be careful." The cold, icy way the four words escaped his lips was enough to send a wave of goosebumps up my arm.

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"

Matsudaira shoves his hands into his pocket and walks towards me. "Just a warning. You know you don't deserve her. So if everything falls apart, don't go crying and running towards your mama because you were warned."

I remain standing there long after he's gone. After what seems like eternity, I break out into a laugh. One that actually shakes my bones and cause a great pain in my stomach.

Shaking my head, I sigh and return to the ballroom.

How can anything fall apart when nothing was ever built in the first place?

* * *

**Well, here you have it. :D Chapter 8. Sorry for the long wait. I had exams.I'll try to update more regularly. (:**


	9. Neuf

**It's been a while. ;) Many thanks to Brianna for beta-ing. (:**

* * *

neuf

* * *

Scanning the crowd, I search for the familiar face of the woman who is solely responsible for messing up my life ever since I met her.

"She's not here."

I look over to Natsume who had suddenly appeared beside me. "Where's she?"

He shrugs. "Haven't seen her." Natsume casts a glance at me before sipping his champagne. "You all right, mate?"

"Yeah," I replied with a slight smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just gonna go find her."

Searching for Hotaru is harder than I had expected, as I am forced into conversations by Hotaru's mother while she shows me off to her group of friends like a new accessory. The busy chattering of the guests dull into incoherent murmurs and lace with the gentle music played by a string quartet. Their bodies swaying gently to the melody.

But eventually, I do find her, all alone in a quiet corner I didn't know existed. She stands there, as still as a statue, hands folded and gaze fixed onto the skyline of Tokyo.

I clear my throat before taking a few steps towards her. She turns and—

Was that regret I saw flashed across her face? And…relief?

I blink only to see that Hotaru's face is, as always, expressionless and frigid. Her radiant amethyst eyes are the only life on her face. I smile weakly.

"About just now," I begin, aware that all her attention is on me. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck under her intense stare. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

"You threw a tantrum and stormed away." Her eyes return to look at the skyline spread out before her. "That's what happened."

"Yeah. Sorry."

The silence that follows is deafeningly loud. Scratching my head, I try to think of something else to say. "So… I met Hayate Matsudaira just now." Upon hearing this, her eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

"And?"

I explain briefly about what happened during our encounter, explaining even the smallest detail. Hotaru hangs on to my every word, a situation that doesn't happen too often.

"I see," she murmurs softly when I stop talking.

"See what?"

Her amethyst eyes return to me once again, as if she is contemplating on whether I am worthy enough to be told about whatever is on her mind. "The fool came up to me and started talking rubbish. Just a little while before you came."

This time my eyebrows raise quizzically. "And...?"

Hotaru shrugs. "I told him that he was being a nuisance and if he didn't leave me alone I would have him hauled away."

"How very you, Hotaru Imai," I laugh. She glares at me for a moment but a second later, the corner of her lips curves up just a little but enough to create a smile.

What about that, the Ice Queen smiles.

"Why aren't you out there?"

"Pardon?"

"There," I gesture towards the people behind us, for the first time noticing that there seems to be an invisible barrier separating the two of us from them. "You're the host, are you not?"

"It doesn't mean that I am not allowed to have some time alone and think. Besides," she pauses and her forehead wrinkles, "they're _dancing_."

"What's so bad about that? There are people; there's music; there's the floor. People are bound to dance. It's something we're born to do."

I almost laugh at the way she's looking at me but I don't because I can already predict the consequences. Hotaru looks as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing on earth. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life."

.

"You hate dancing?"

She's silent. I take that as a yes.

"Why?"

"There's no 'why', Nogi. I just don't like it."

"Why?"

"Just because."

I can't help it as a grin crawls up my face. I nudge her gently by the arm. "Come on, Imai, no one hates dancing 'just because'." Then it hit me. Of course. "Hotaru Imai, do you_ know_ how to dance?"

She continues to glare before turning her head away from me. How terribly cute. "Hotaru Imai doesn't hate dancing 'just because', she hates it because she doesn't know how to dance."

"That's false." Her reply arrives almost too quickly and too defensively. "I can dance, I just refuse to."

I cross my arm in front of my chest with what I know would be a triumphant smile on my face. This is getting fun. "Prove it."

She blinks at me for a second. "Excuse me?"

"Prove it. Prove that you can dance. Right here, right now."

"No."

"Come on. Prove me wrong. Isn't that your favourite hobby?"

"No means no, Nogi."

"Are you scared, Imai?"

"I will_ not_ dance."

"A little dance won't hurt." I touch her arm lightly.

"_Don't_, push it."

She glares at me while I return it by looking at her smugly. Finally, Imai gives up with a sigh and mutters, "As if _you_ can dance."

Without a warning, I grab her by the waist and keep a strong hold on it as I lift her a few inches from the ground. For a woman with such a tough character, it's surprising how light she actually feels in my arms. She yelps and squeals, all the while writhing herself out from my grasp. "Let me go, _now_."

"Nope" was my reply as I hold one of her arms outstretched. Her other arm circles my neck as she holds onto her dear life.

With one arm firmly around her waist and the other holding onto her hand, the two of us—or at least I, while carrying her—danced in circles for a moment. Hotaru never stops squealing while I never stop laughing.

When I finally decide to set her feet back down onto the ground, Hotaru remains clinging onto me as my head spins.

"That," she manages to say after letting go of me, "was not in any way pleasant." And with that, she smacks me with her clutch, right across the shoulder.

"Ouch." But a grin still remains. "Come on, live a little. Life's too short to be so uptight all the time."

Before she can turn and storm away, I grab hold of her hand. She glares, I grin unflinchingly.

"What is wrong with you today, Nogi? Let me go."

Shaking my head, I placed her free hand on my shoulder and placed my hand around her waist.

"Just follow my lead."

She stands firmly in her position, unwilling to move a muscle. But it takes only a little bit more of coaxing before she sighs and began to take small steps and sure enough, the two of us are dancing a half-decent fox trot.

"When I was growing up in France, my mother was a teacher in a dance school and I would follow her to work every day. So basically, I grew up dancing." I turn to the left, well aware that Hotaru is still glaring at me even though she's following my actions perfectly. "Since I was a young boy, I would sit quietly in a corner, watching my mom twirl around the studio and her students doing the same moves. Soon later, I was doing exactly what they were doing, but perhaps a little amateurish. But I was a fast learner. My mother and the other teachers noticed my talent so a few of them would take a couple of hours to teach me a little bit of dancing every day."

We stop dancing and I pull Hotaru to the window as we sit down, heads against the glass windows.

"So yes, I _do_ know how to dance.

"What about you, how was your childhood like?"

Hotaru looks away to the party that is still going on in full swing. "What does it have to with you? Just because you told me some useless information about yourself doesn't mean that I'm obligated to do the same."

We become silent for a minute or so before Hotaru sighs, her eyes staring straight into mine and I can feel my heart skipping a beat. "Matsudaira," she begins, hesitant, "he's an annoying prat. Always have been and probably always will be. He's the son of my mother's friend and I guess you can say that we grew up together, since we would spend time together five times a week when we were younger. He was annoying, still is, constantly obsessing over me. Sometimes I wonder if his parents got a divorce because of their sorry excuse for a son."

I laugh, she glares. But for once, Hotaru doesn't stop talking as words spill out from her mouth. She explains how Matsudaira was always the one who would come running to her whenever something happened, and also that she didn't date him just so his father could fund her project.

"It was vital for me to get rid of him. It was annoying how he kept pining for my attention, dropping innuendoes here and there. It was even more annoying when our schoolmates wouldn't stop with all the chanting and the teasing. I didn't what was more annoying, him or them. I just needed him to realise that I wasn't 'nice'." She sighs and rests her head against the glass window behind us. "But as you can see, he's more idiotic than a fruit fly."

I can't help myself as laughter bubble up my throat. "Did Hotaru Imai just make a funny?"

Hotaru narrows her eyes. "Oh, shut it." She smacks my face gently in an almost affectionate way. I'm a little taken aback.

"Thank you."

"What? For slapping you?"

"No, for sharing. Thank you, for telling me about Matsudaira." Reaching over to her, I hold her small hand and give it a squeeze. For some reason, she doesn't pull back. She just sits there besides me, knees pulled up to her chin.

"My parents will be leaving in a few days."

"I know."

"There will be no need for us to keep seeing each other like this."

I close my eyes, painfully aware of everything she's saying. "I know." It surprises me how this is making me feel. After all she's done, why is it that I actually sad that it's almost time to draw the curtains on our play.

I push myself up from the floor while pulling her up as well. "Come, the guests should be missing us by now."

I can tell that she's reluctant but Hotaru stands up and dusts herself, but she never loosens the grip she has on my hand. "Very well," she says with a sigh and moves towards the door, "let's get this over with."

It's odd that I'm feeling this way in this very moment. But for some reason, at that very second, I realize that I've never seen a more beautiful woman than Hotaru Imai herself.

Hot dang.

* * *

The birthday party Hotaru held for her grandfather came and went and so did the days that followed. Next thing I know, I'm standing at the airport with her by my side, bidding goodbye to a teary Mrs. Imai and the rest of her family, along with her brother who's planning on spending a week in France with his family.

"Remember to take good care of yourself when I'm not around, alright? Don't be so caught up with your work, it's unhealthy."

Hotaru rolls her eyes. "I've been doing that for the past few years, Mother."

Mrs. Imai smiles and pats her daughter lightly on the cheek. Then, she looks over to me before extending her arms to give me a hug. I return the gesture. "Goodbye, Mrs. Imai."

"It's Megumi," she corrects in mock sternness. She leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Do take care of my daughter for me, Ruka. I haven't been able to do that for a while now."

When I'm released from her embrace, I shake hands with everyone else that's leaving: Hotaru's father, grandfather, her brother and his wife.

"Well, will I see you again, Ruka Nogi?"

I shrug, not sure how I should answer that question. "Hopefully. Hopefully I'll see you again, Subaru. Good luck on your next projects. You can be sure that I'll be watching them the moment they're out in cinemas."

Subaru's deep laughter rings throughout the private waiting room where our goodbyes are being said. "That's good to hear."

There's something about the way Subaru's looking at me that sends a bell ringing in my mind: it's as if he knows.

Did Hotaru tell him?

I feel an arm snaking around my waist as Hotaru takes her place beside me. "Ruka and I will be off then. Goodbye."

Just like that, we leave them and the two of us are sitting in the back of her Bentley.

"So… What now?"

"Now that my parents are gone, there is no longer a reason for us to see each other again. As you've kept your side of the bargain, your debts have been voided. So in other words," she looks at me with a tiny smile gracing her lips, "you're a free man, Ruka Nogi."

I know I'm supposed to be jumping up and down, cheering for my freedom. But I'm not because I can't. the only link I have with Hotaru Imai has disappeared and I'm not the least bit happy.

I guess I would've been doing just that a month ago. But now, things have changed, things are different.

"This is you," she says suddenly, breaking my line of thoughts. She nods towards the window and I realise what she meant.

I'm home.

"We're still friends right?"

I look over to her, hoping for a positive reply only to see her staring blankly at me. I feel my face going red.

"Well, goodbye Hotaru." I said while trying to smile. Opening the door, I'm one step out from the car when she replies.

"Yes, we're can be friends," she says softly, "you don't annoy me as much as most people do."

I can feel it again, my heart skipping a beat just as she uttered those words. Those words weren't much, but they were enough.

"See you."

While standing at the sidewalk, I watch as the car drives away. As it passes, the residents of this middle-class neighbourhood turn heads watching it sail right pass them. I must've looked like a fool standing there staring into blank space with probably a goofy-looking smile on my face but I've arrived at a conclusion as I recount all that has happened in the last few weeks.

I'm never going to find a person who's as brilliant as Hotaru Imai.

* * *

_After Takumi Imai's birthday party. 2.15 AM. Hotaru's study._

"What're you still doing up so late?"

She was startled by the sudden voice that pierced through the comfortable silence. Hotaru looked up and saw that her brother was leaning against the door to her study. She scowled before returning to scribbling onto the papers spread out in front of her.

"What does it seem like I'm doing? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Subaru stepped into her study. Hotaru was annoyed at the fact that she didn't invite him in but she kept quiet; only to continue writing while keeping a watchful eye on her brother.

"This," he began and paused. Hotaru dropped her pen and settled her chin on her fingers, urging her brother to continue. "This Ruka Nogi guy, you're not _really_ dating him, correct?"

Hotaru didn't even show the slightest emotion at her brother's words. After a couple of seconds have passed, she leaned back into her chair. "I knew I couldn't hide anything from you. As always. So tell me, what gave it away?"

Subaru sat down on the sofa placed in her study. He shook his head. "Well, my understanding of you. I know the whole dating game isn't really you. Remember that Hayate fellow? Exactly. But I have to applaud you on your first-class acting, it was really believable. You'd do well in show business, my little sister." He leaned back into a comfortable position and crossed his legs. "So let me guess, mom read the news and she won't shut up about it?"

"Very good. Spot on. Now go back to bed." Hotaru murmured and picked up her pen again.

"Fine." Subaru got up from the sofa and stretched his back. "You should go to bed too. "As he heard the crackle his bones made, he sighed wistfully.

"Oh. Before I go, be careful, sis."

"For what?" Hotaru didn't look up from her documents but her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You're breaking someone's heart here."

She froze immediately and her head shot up, wanting to ask her brother what did he mean by that but he had left and she could hear him yawning down the hall.

* * *

**Chapter 10 will be up shortly. Hopefully. (: Sorry for disappearing.**


	10. Dix

**Beta-ed by Brianna, AKA _my-silver-lining._**

* * *

dix

* * *

I've come to realise something. After the whole episode with Hotaru Imai, life doesn't seem as interesting as it used to. Before I even met Hotaru, life was decent to say the least, it was interesting in a way and I was mostly in an eager mood when I woke up every morning. But now, it feels almost mundane. Waking up, having breakfast, going to work, lunch, working, going home, watching TV, bed and then the entire process starts all over again.

It's almost as if when Hotaru Imai left, she took the spark in life away with her.

We didn't contact each other, not once in the month after she dropped me off at my apartment, despite the fact that she had said we could be friends. It didn't help that she's in my thoughts 24/7.

On more than one occasion I had wanted to call her and see how she is doing. But these thoughts are always easily abandoned when I think about how easily irritated she is.

Sigh. Why does this have to be so difficult?

* * *

It isn't until a month and a half of mulling over Hotaru Imai did I receive the slightest news about her.

From Mikan.

"I wonder how's Hotaru doing," she mumbles, biting on her straw.

Just mentioning her name is enough to attract my full attention. I keep a calm face and take a bite out of my burger. Casting a sideways glance at Natsume, I see he's at the counter ordering a sundae for his girlfriend. When he turns his head over to us, Mikan smiles like the little high school girl she's not and waves. Natsume smirks. "Why don't you contact her?"

She rolls her eyes. "I would if she's in Japan. She would kill me if I dared disturb her when she's on one of her business trips."

Oh?

"Oh? Where's she?" I ask, trying to keep my tone as even as possible.

Mikan shrugs before picking up a couple of fries, dabbing them with some ketchup, and plaving them into her mouth. "South America. She's thinking of expanding her business there. Said she'll be gone for six weeks. Now that I think about it, she should be home any day now."

I try not to look excited while in my brain I'm dying to do a few cartwheels in McDonald's. Right here, right now. Natsume joins us a while later with a cup of sundae in his hand. He hands it to Mikan. "They're out of strawberry, might as well just settle for chocolate."

Mikan pulls a face. "How can they be out of strawberry!" Reluctantly, she tears the cap open and starts feeding herself the dessert. Natsume looks on with his usual smirk on his face.

"So... Imai's at South America on a business trip, correct?"

Mikan beams, then nods. "Yeap."

Ah. So perhaps that's why I haven't heard from her.

Then again, perhaps I'm just being optimistic.

* * *

The phone call comes three days after my lunch with Natsume and Mikan at McDonald's. While I'm walking home from work, my phone rings. I fish it out from my pocket to see an unfamiliar phone number on the caller ID. Puzzled, I flick it open.

"Hello. Ruka speaking."

"Is this Mr Nogi? Mr Ruka Nogi?"

That doesn't sound like someone I know. "Yes. Who's this?"

"You may or may not remember me. I am Yamamoto, the head butler of Miss Imai's household."

There it is again. The feeling of my heart skipping a beat upon hearing her name. I stop in my tracks. "Ah, of course. Yes, I do remember you. What can I do for you?"

"Well," Yamamoto hesitates.

Immediately, my mind prepares for the worst. "Did something happen to Hotaru?"

"Well, Miss Imai is currently ill. Upon returning to Japan from Brazil, she seems to have caught a bug and has gotten sick with a terrible flu. I've had a doctor look at her and he gave her some medication, but unfortunately, Miss Imai hasn't stopped working. She's been constantly cooped up in her study for the past few days and well, I'm worried."

"Have you tried talking to her?"

Yamamoto scoffs, or at least it sounds like he just scoffed. "Well of course, Mr Nogi. I have tried and tried, but you know Miss Imai. She can be… Well, I was wondering if _you_ could talk to her."

I hail a cab. "Did you contact Mikan? Mikan Sakura."

"Of course. But Miss Sakura is currently in Beijing. I wouldn't want to disturb her on her trip."

Oh yeah. I think Natsume mentioned that a few days ago. At least I think he did.

I yank the door open and get into the cab. "I'm on my way."

* * *

After I reach the Imai Tower and get permission to enter the private premise from the guard house, I see Yamamoto waiting for me at the guard house.

"Is it bad?" I ask the moment he's within earshot.

Yamamoto sighs and the two of us step into the elevator cab that's waiting for our arrival. Yamamoto inserts a card into a slot and presses 'P'. The elevator begins to move.

"If she continues on like this, I fear that it's going to be far more than bad, Mr Nogi." Yamamoto replies. A 'ding' is heard as we reach the top floor.

"Follow me." I walk behind the butler as he brings me to Hotaru. Once we stop at a door, he knocks and announces his presence.

"There's someone else who wishes to see you, Miss Imai."

The reply comes in a muffled groan. Yamamoto turns the handle and allows me to enter the room, which I assume is Imai's study as bookshelves filled with an impressive amount of books lined the walls. A large mahogany desk has been placed in the middle of the room and sitting behind it is a figure that I couldn't recognize at first sight.

"Hotaru?"

Sure enough, the person groans again. Her desk is in a mess with half a dozen of folders lying opened on her desk while her head's bent over reading something on her laptop; the view of her face has been blocked by the hands that are supporting her head so I couldn't' really take a good look at her. Her hair's dishevelled while balls of tissues are lying all around her. She blows her nose with another piece of tissue before it joins the rest of them on the floor. She looks up from her laptop and stares at me. I didn't know Hotaru wears glasses.

This person doesn't really look like Hotaru.

"Nogi? What are you—what are you—doing here? " she mumbles between sniffles.

Oh. It's her.

I take a few careful steps towards her. "I heard you fell ill. Yamamoto called, said you refused to rest. I came here to investigate its validity." I look around the room. "Turns out he was telling the truth."

"Well—now that your—job's done—perhaps you should—leave. The door—is right there.—Goodbye."

"Oh no no no." I take another step forward and lean against the desk, crossing my arms. "I have another job. You see, if the first claim turns out to be true, I'm supposed to get your ass to stop working and just—chill."

Hotaru ignores me as her bloodshot eyes continue to stare at the screen before her. I glance at the mug of tea sitting innocently next to her. Without her noticing, I pick it up and hold it above her laptop and papers. She stares at me, for once, horrified.

"What do you—think you're doing?" she hisses.

"I'm pretty sure that your laptop doesn't really go well with tea." I raise an eyebrow. "Now you can stop working, get some rest and I won't pour this nice mug of tea all over it."

"Are you_ threatening_ me, Nogi?"

I shrug. "I'm making a deal with you. Isn't that what you're good at?"

Hotaru refuses to move from her seat while her eyes are flicking from my face and the hazardous object above her laptop. "Come on, Imai. You can't be like this. You're the Ice Queen, not Miss Invincible. Like the normal human you are, you need to get some rest so that you can be nursed back to health. Working this hard is going to get you killed. And just in case you think I'm joking, I'm not."

She continues to glare as I tip the mug by a little. I swear I just saw her eyes widen in fear.

"Resting won't kill you, Hotaru. On the other hand, not resting will."

After what seems like an eternity, Imai closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and shuts her laptop. "Fine."

I smile triumphantly. "There's a good girl."

She gets up from her chair and I'm about to place an arm around her when she snaps at me. "Don't touch me."

I roll my eyes and let my arms fall back to my sides. I watch her carefully as she shuffles slowly and I follow behind till we reach the living room. Hotaru throws herself onto the couch and closes her eyes. Spotting a blanket lying nearby, I pick it up before throwing it over her small frame. She doesn't even move a muscle, and the only way I can tell she's alive is by the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

"Do you want to eat something?"

She doesn't reply.

"Have you had anything to eat? Have you had dinner? Or lunch, in this case?"

"No, she hasn't," replies Yamamoto who walks over to us with a tray in his hands. "I was hoping you could get her to eat something too."

He places the tray onto coffee table before leaving the two of us alone. I tap her gently on the shoulder. "You have to eat something, Hotaru. Come on, you can sleep later. Wake up now."

Seeing that she refuses to budge, I shake her, harder and harder till her eyes snap open in annoyance and she groans/growls at me. She pushes herself up into a sitting position. Picking the bowl up, I feed her slowly, scooping spoonful of porridge then holding it to her lips. This time, Hotaru complies with little resistance till the bowl's three quarters empty.

"I'm full." I open my mouth, wanting to persuade her to finish up the last bit of porridge but Hotaru shakes her head. I sigh and notice that there are a couple of pills on the plate. Placing the bowl back onto the tray, I pick up the pills and a glass of water.

"Here you go. Your medication." I place the pills into her mouth one by one, with pauses in between each pill for gulps of water. When she's done, Hotaru closes her eyes and her head lolls to one side, fast asleep.

I try shaking her awake but to no avail. Hotaru's stubbornly asleep, which no amount of shaking can wake her up. She must be dead tired. I'm contemplating on what I should do next when Yamamoto appears.

"I see Miss Imai's asleep." He comments while cleaning up the tray. "Mr Nogi, if you would be so kind, would you mind carrying Miss Imai to her room?"

For a second there I'm stunned by his request. I look at him then at Hotaru Imai who's snoring lightly, then back to him. "C-carry her?"

I weigh my choices, considering the odds of Hotaru waking up while I'm carrying her, her reaction, the chances of her waking up when we're _in_ her room and realising my presence, and also her possible reactions. Most of them aren't really pretty, to be honest.

"Please?"

Finally, I sigh and nod. Yamamoto sends me a grateful smile. "Come, allow me to show you to her room."

I slide my arms under Hotaru's shoulders and her knees before lifting her up gently. She doesn't even stir. When I'm positive that she's safe in my arms and I won't drop her, I follow Yamamoto to her bedroom. I know that Imai's light, but having her in my arms now, I can tell that she's lost weight.

"This way," the old butler announces and pushes a set of French doors open. He hastily pulls the curtains shut and at once flicks on a lamp in the corner of the room. "Over there," he points towards the bed, indicating that's the place I should set her down. Gingerly, I lower her body down till she's safely on the bed before removing my arms from underneath her. I turn around, assuming Yamamoto's there only to see that he had once again left me alone with an ill and sleeping Hotaru.

That damn butler. I grumble softly.

With a sigh, I pull the covers over Hotaru to her chin and pat it gently. It's amazing how Hotaru Imai, who's always so headstrong and so sure of herself, can be so vulnerable when she's sick.

Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and she turns over to me, her large amethyst eyes blinking at me.

"This is—my room. What are you—doing in here?"

Taken back by surprise, I try to explain myself. I notice the line of mucus running down from her nose then hastily hand her some tissue. "You fell asleep on the couch." That came out a little too forcefully. I wince inwardly and soften my tone, "Yamamoto told me to carry you into bed. I swear I've no other intention."

She smiles weakly. "Sit—down and stop being so—loud. It's not like I'm going to eat you. I don't feel like eating you—in this condition."

Hotaru made a funny. Hah. I stifle a chuckle.

There's no chair in sight so I assume that she means the bed when she invites me to sit down. I comply and sit on the edge of the mattress.

"Hotaru, Hotaru. What happened, eh? Heard you were in Brazil a while ago. What happened? Were you working too hard again? Hmm?" I tease. She closes her eyes.

"There's no—such thing as—working too hard." Her voice sounds so weak and tired that whenever she speaks, it is as if each uttering syllable takes all the energy she has left in her. Not to mention all the sniffling and sneezing in the middle of each sentence.

"Sure there is." I reply. I expect some other smart-ass retort from Hotaru but she keeps quiet, her eyes close.

"You're not supposed—to see me—like this." I smile and touch her forehead delicately, feeling the heat under my hand.

"You're burning up, Hotaru. And it's alright. We all get sick once in a while. No biggy."

Hotaru wrinkles her forehead under my touch and look at me. "You—didn't—have—to—come."

I scoff. "Of course I did. If I weren't here to stop you from working yourself to death, the next time I saw you would've probably been in a hospital or at your funeral. Besides, I wanted to come. I was worried. After not hearing from you for two months and the _first thing_ I hear is you falling sick, I was really worried."

"Why?"

What does she mean by why? I ponder her question and try to think of an answer, only to come up with one. "Because we're friends. You said we could be friends, remember?"

She nods weakly. "Yes. But I wouldn't—visit—a sick friend."

I chuckle and touch her hand. "Well, I guess that's _your_ way of treating your friends."

Hotaru looks at the fan above us, watching it intently as it spins around and around, again and again.

"Thank you."

She was so soft that I couldn't hear her the first time. "Pardon?"

"I said thank you." Her eyes are back on me. "For everything." She entwines her fingers with mine and smiles.

"You're welcome." I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it softly. Since she's being so nice, —though it's probably the meds doing all the talking—I might as well seize the moment. Carpe diem, right? Sure enough, she didn't hit me or scowl or tell me to go to hell, she grins.

Hotaru. Freaking. Imai. Grins.

Snapping out from my state of shock, I kiss the back of her hand once more. "Go to sleep, Hotaru. Don't worry, I'll be here."

She closes her eyes. "You know, Ruka—your hands—are really soft. In a rather—feminine way."

"Ah…" That was unexpected. "Thank you?"

I can't tell if she can hear me for she's already asleep, with her calm and rhythmic breathing being the loudest sound in the room.

I get up, ready to leave her to herself when I realise that I'm being held back by the hand. I look over to my hand only to see our fingers intertwined.

I smile.

Seems like Hotaru Imai just fell asleep holding onto my hand.

* * *

**There. Told you it'd be soon. ;)  
**


	11. Onze

**Beta-ed by Bri.**

* * *

onze

* * *

Sitting all alone in a café at the airport during the Christmas season is pretty sad, to be honest. You see people moving in herds, or at least a couple, going to and fro. It's easy to tell who's who in this situation, if you're observant and have enough time. You see the glow in the faces of those who have just arrived home, back in good ol' Tokyo, and a brighter smile as they are embracing family who they probably haven't seen in a long while. You see tourists who have decided to spend their holidays in Japan, pushing their trolleys with their luggage stacked up high on it. It's easy to sort them out by the eagerness on their faces.

It's easy, really. Or maybe not.

I've been sitting in a café for an hour now, making observations about random strangers. I check my watch. She should be here by now. I yawn. _Why_ did she take a flight that arrives at midnight?

There's a shrill ring and I hastily reach into my pocket for my phone. "Hello?"

"Luca? I've gotten my luggage. Where are you?" Hearing the familiar voice speaking in such fluent French, I smile and lean back into my seat.

"Just outside the arrivals, waiting." I extract a few bills from my wallet before tossing it onto the table. "You should be able to see me once you walk out."

The woman on the other line sighs. "I'm so tired, Luca. So this is what you have to go through whenever you come home."

"_Oui, mama_. I warned you about it, but you just refused to listen." Standing among those who are also waiting for the arrivals, I scan the crowd that's exiting the arrival hall, hoping to see a familiar platinum blond hair among the crowd but which shouldn't be hard since this _is_ Japan, but it is. "Are you out?"

"_Oui_. You don't see me? And I _told_ you, the airfares were dirt cheap."

I stand on my tiptoes with the phone still sticking to my ear as my eyes scan the crowd. "Well, I still don't see you."

As soon as the words leave my lips, I see her, striding towards me while pulling the luggage behind her. My grin widens when our eyes meet and I see her blue eyes glowing with excitement. I can only assume that mine are the same. Dressed in a casual attire of a cardigan over a white shirt and a pair of washed jeans, she stretches out an arm as she walks over to me, grinning from ear to ear.

"Luca."

"Mama," I greet her as I wrap my arms around my mother. She plants a sloppy wet kiss on my cheeks before pulling away. "Welcome to Tokyo." I reach out to take her luggage from her and holding her hand with my other.

Mama just gives me a look-over from head to toe, pursing her lips in disapproval. "Luca darling, have you been _eating?_ You were skinny enough the last time I saw you but now, you're all skin and bones."

I roll my eyes and peck her on the cheek. "My mother, always the drama queen."

Mama just laughs it off as we head towards the direction of the exit. "We'll talk more about this later. Come, how long has it been since the last time I visited you in your apartment?"

This time, it's my turn to laugh. "Mama, you never did. The last time you visited me in Japan, I was still living Natsume, and that was back when I was still in college and Mama," I stop in my tracks suddenly. Mama stops too when she realizes that I've stopped. She whips her head back to look at me, eyebrows raised. "My car's that way." And we head towards the opposite direction.

* * *

As we're in the car, Mama begins with her usual routine of checking up on how I'm doing in my life. It's the same thing really, every time we see each other or every time we talk on the phone.

"So how are you."

"Fine. You?"

"Oh, you know, same old same old. " The she rambles briefly about her neighbours, sometimes about old friends I used to spend time with when I was still living in France. "So how's work?"

"Good."

"How's Natsume?"

I make a left turn as the lights turn green, eyes never leaving the road. "He's still the same."

"Still with that Mikan girl?"

"_Oui_."

"So what about you? Have you gotten me a daughter-in-law?"

I pause. Have I? My mind immediately goes to Hotaru. It's been almost two weeks since I went to her penthouse and persuaded—threatened would be more accurate— her to take a break and get some rest. We haven't been in contact since. Mainly it's because I was too busy juggling both work and the preparations for my mother's arrival. "No. Not yet."

Then, as usual, she sighs and grumbles about how she's not getting any younger and she would rather her grandchildren see her when she was still beautiful. "You are beautiful, mama. You have been and will always be." I grin as her face glows with happiness but her lips keep saying how I'm probably lying.

A comfortable silence settles between us. There's still one question she had always asked but has yet to ask.

"Have you seen your father?"

I close my eyes momentarily before remembering that I'm driving. I can tell her eyes are on me, expecting my answer. Just any answer.

There are a couple of topics I never feel like talking about and I never want to talk about. I'd avoid talking about them for my whole life if I could.

And the first on my list of topics I never want to talk about is definitely _this._

Mama knows this better than anyone else but it has never stopped her.

"So tomorrow morning we'll head to the market and perhaps we'll go downtown and catch a movie. And then on Christmas Eve, like always, we'll cook up a storm, yea?" I look over to her, just in time to catch that flicker of disappointment appearing one second and disappearing the next. Mama reaches out to pat my hand. "Anything, Luca."

The silence that follows is practically unbearable but neither of us is willing to be the one to break it.

Father will always be the last thing I ever want to talk about.

* * *

Christmas Eve couldn't come any quicker. One moment I was picking up my mother at the airport and the next thing I'm know, the two of us are buzzing around in the kitchen, practically screaming at each other.

Mama steps over to me and yanks the bowl of gravy from my hand, without even a word of 'thank you'. She dips her little finger into it before placing it into her mouth. "Luca, didn't I told you to put some lemon juice into it?" She walks over to the counter, grumbling under her breath and squeezes some lemon juice into the gravy.

I just stand there, taking deep breaths. She glances over at me. "Why are you standing there? Leave!"

And there it is again. It happens every time really. Mama cooks, I offer to help, but then she gets so easily mad that I often wonder whether she's the same mother I know. I've considered keeping her away from the kitchen but the food she makes is definitely worth enduring her temporary fiery temper. I just need to calm down and think of the food. Just think of the food, Ruka Nogi, think of Mama's beautiful turkey, delicious potato soup, lovely canapés…

"_Ah! Mon dieu!_ Luca, get back in here. The turkey is getting burned. Didn't I tell you to look after it?"

Just think of the food, Ruka. Think of the wonderful food.

* * *

Mama's putting on the finishing touches to her dishes while I'm setting the table when the doorbell rings.

"Luca," Mama's head pops out from the kitchen; her hair is a complete disaster: strands of hair are sticking out or fallen out form her bun. Her forehead is wrinkled. "I thought you told me that you didn't invite anyone?"

"I didn't, I swear." I reply, equally as puzzled.

A hand flies to her mouth and her eyes widen. "I don't have enough food for three. Oh dear, oh dear, I need to prepare a little bit more." And then she disappears into the kitchen once more.

The doorbell rings again and I step over to the door.

"Mama, there's no need. You've prepared enough for an entire village!" To be honest, I'm not exactly sure is she can hear me over the clattering of the pots and pans. "Besides, I'm sure that it's just some salesperson or something."

I open the door and standing there before me is not a salesperson. No, definitely not a salesperson.

"H-Hotaru, what are you doing here?"

Hotaru Imai looks as elegant as ever, a big difference from the time I last saw her in her penthouse, all sick and snotty. Dressed in proper clothing for the cold Tokyo weather, it's almost breath-taking to see her standing there.

And quite a surprise too.

"Good evening, Nogi," she greets curtly but she seems…nervous. Though I've only known her for one month, there's one thing I'm positively sure of.

Hotaru Imai never gets nervous. She's either pleased, angry, annoyed, clam, bored or impassively happy. She _never _gets _nervous_. It's ridiculous to even _consider_ her nervous.

But I can tell when someone's nervous and my eyesight is perfectly fine. It's the tiny quiver in her voice, the way she's continuously curling and uncurling her fingers that are clutching onto a nicely-wrapped present, the way her eyes are darting from here to there…

The fact that Hotaru is nervous is so shocking that I don't realise that I'm staring at her, agape. It isn't until her amethyst eyes lock with mine and annoyance quickly replaces her anxious state that I notice I'm gawking at her. "Are you done looking like a retarded fool?"

I blink. "Oh, oh yeah. Um, sorry, I'm just surprised. With you appearing at my doorsteps now. Well, not that I'm complaining or anything, it's just—it's really good to see you, Hotaru. I-I just wasn't expecting you, y'know. I mean, I called you a few times and you wouldn't pick up or your assistant will pick up and then she will tell me that you're busy and so I was beginning to think that—anyways, good to see you, Hotaru." I lean an arm against the doorframe, trying to calm myself down. Hotaru just continues to look at me impassively.

Smooth, Nogi, very smooth.

A corner of her lips curves up to form a small smirk. Clearly she's enjoying herself at seeing me acting like a blubbering fool.

I make a pitiful attempt at redeeming myself by clearing my throat and gathering my wits in the process. "So, what brings you here?"

"I heard what you did two weeks ago, when I fell ill. I was too sick to realise what was happening. I'm here to give you a proper thank you." With that, she takes two steps back before lowering herself at the waist to a 90 degree angle, a full, proper bow. For five seconds she stays in that position while I stand there, not knowing what I should do in the current situation.

When she straightens her back, Hotaru pats her hair slightly and everything falls back into place, not a single strand of hair out of place. She holds out the wrapped box towards me. "I would've come here empty-handed but I realise that it's Christmas Eve and it would be customary for me to hand you a gift. Besides," her eyes flick up to meet mine, "I wouldn't want to owe you after what you did. So now we're even."

"Luca, who is this?" Mama's appearance is so sudden that I nearly jump. She stares at Hotaru, who I realise is almost the same height as my mother, only perhaps shorter by two centimetres or so.

"Uhh, Mama, this is Hotaru. A—" I look over to her, trying to figure out what I should address her as. A friend? My ex? My fake ex-girlfriend? The woman who forced me into pretending to be her boyfriend because I ruined her priceless skirt? What do I call her?

Eventually, I settle with 'my friend'. "Hotaru, this is my mother."

Mama reaches out to hold Hotaru's hand with both of hers. The grin on her face is a little too bright. "_Enchantée_!"

Hotaru smiles politely and replies in perfect French, "It's nice meeting you too, Mrs Nogi."

My eyes widen in fear and I can see Mama's lips twitching ever so slightly. She laughs lightly. "Oh no, call me Madame de La Fouchardière or Lisette. I would prefer the latter, really."

Hotaru seems a little puzzled at first but she keeps quiet. "Well, it's nice meeting you, Lisette."

"And you too, Hotaru. Shouldn't you be celebrating the Christmas Eve with your family?"

Hotaru shakes her head. "No. My family is not living in Japan." Upon hearing her statement, I can see Mama's blue eyes brighten up.

"Well, then you should come and join us for dinner then. It might not be much because I wasn't expecting a guest, but I'm sure there's enough for just one more person." Mama begins tugging Hotaru hands gently while the latter just stands rooted at her spot, looking a little lost.

She looks over to me, then back at mama. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to return before my driver goes on leave for the holidays."

"Well, I'm sure that Luca here can send you home," she look over to me, "right, Luca?"

"Uhh…" I return Hotaru's look before shrugging my shoulders. "You should stay. I'll send you home. My mom's able to whip up a pretty decent meal."

Mama looks at me with a scandalized look. "_Pretty_ decent? _Pretty decent?_" I laugh as she hits me on the arm. "I'll have you know that, mister, pretty decent is the understatement of the millennium. I do not cook _pretty decent_ meals, for your information." She turns to Hotaru. "Don't listen to him. He's talking rubbish. Do stay."

Hotaru looks from her to me then back to Mama. Eventually, she smiles and nods curtly. "Okay."

Mama lets out a squeal and claps her hands like a little girl. "Splendid! Oh, that reminds me, I'll have to add a bit more food onto the menu." With that, she dashes off into the kitchen as I am left groaning.

"Mama!" I holler, "I _told_ you, we have enough food to feed a family of _twenty_, so stop cooking!"

I head towards the kitchen. As I pass by Hotaru, I notice the small smile on her lips as she, seemingly amused by the little banter between mother and son.

* * *

Dinner was pleasant. Mama went back to her usual happy, bubbly, non-destructive self while we talked, Hotaru paying attention to the conversation being held, occasionally dropping a word or two. With no mother screaming her head off, no Ice Queen throwing snide remarks every five seconds, dinner was beyond pleasant, it was splendid.

And the cherry on top? Me, Hotaru, two of us, at the sink, doing the dishes.

Trust me, I was equally surprised when she offered. Heck, I almost dropped the plates I was holding when I heard it. But it's true, with her standing right beside me, washing off the layer of soap I've applied.

"You sure you know how to do this?" I ask, though we've already washed a quarter of the dishes. And from the looks of it, they seem pretty clean after going through her hands.

She shoots me a dirty look. "Nogi, are you doubting my capability to wash a couple of dishes? If I can start a business at fifteen, earn my first million at sixteen, I am sure I can wash a few petty dishes. Perhaps it will surprise you that I am capable of doing my own laundry, taking out the trash and clean a nine-hundred square feet apartment?"

My jaw drops a little. "Yes…"

She continues on washing, her hands moving robotically over everything being handed over to her. "Will it also surprise you that I've served as a waitress in a restaurant, worked at a cashier in a quick mart and stood in a mall, working as a promoter?"

"R-really?"

She scoffs. "Who do you take me for, Nogi? A rich, spoilt, overly pampered brat whose worries only worries are whether if the latest handbag has been sold out?" She mutters blandly.

"No. I definitely don't think you're a rich, spoilt, overly-pampered brat. But did you really work as a waitress before?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"My parents made sure that my brother and I know what 'the real life' is."

I ask, "Is that why you needed to Matsudaira's Corp. to fund your research back then?"

"Is there any other reason why I would waste my time and suck up to that Matsudaira idiot and pretend to be his girlfriend if I was able to pay for my own research?" She pauses before adding. "Well, I also needed to get him off my back. But still."

"Oh. That makes sense." I cast a glance at the clock. 8.15. "But I still disagree with how you deluded him."

"I never asked for your approval, Nogi. I don't need it. Though I don't understand why you're so upset over something that doesn't concern you."

Doesn't it? _Does_ it?

I open my mouth and then close it seconds later. Damn. I can't think of a proper comeback.

Hotaru nudges my rib, her chin jutting out towards the bowl in my hand.

"You missed a spot."

* * *

"I've always loved this movie," Mama comments as we're seated in the living room, watching a rerun of an old Christmas movie. Mama's sitting on the armchair that's placed adjacent to the television while Hotaru and I are sitting on the couch facing it. Looking over to my mother, the dreamy expression she has on while her favourite actor's on screen causes me to chuckle gently. Mama seems to have heard it so her eyes dart towards me then she smiles.

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

Mama motions towards the space beside me, which I know is being occupied by Hotaru Imai. I look over to her, only to find out that she has fallen asleep. Her head is buried into one of the pillows while her legs are curled up on the couch into a foetal position. Her usual pale face is pink from the influence of alcohol. A glass of wine dangles hazardously between her two fingers. Realising the situation, I remove it from her before placing it onto the table.

"Luca," Mama begins, her index fingers circling the rim of her wineglass, "are you lying to me?"

I hesitate for a second or two. "No. Of course not." Not exactly a least. I've never really lied to Mama, just hiding truths.

"Really now?" She seems sceptical as she raises the glass to her lips then popping a couple of nuts into her mouth. "Then Hotaru over here," she gestures towards the sleeping girl next to me, "are you sure she's 'just a friend'?"

"She is."

Mama stares at me for a couple of second too long before shrugging and returning her attention to the television. I can tell she's not buying it but she stops asking questions about Hotaru and I. "Luca, dearie, it is kinda late now, isn't it? Maybe you should wake up that little 'friend' of yours and send her home."

I look over to the clock only to be informed that it's nearly half past eleven. "Oh. Right." I turn to Hotaru and pat her lightly on the shoulder, "Hotaru, hey, wake up." She doesn't even stir so I shake her a little harder, "Oi, Hotaru, Hotaru Imai, wake up."

This time, she stirs a little before falling back into peaceful slumber. Mama chuckles softly then gets up from her seat and disappears into her room. She returns moment later with a blanket in hand.

"Why don't you just let her stay for the night? Send her back tomorrow morning, when she wakes up." She spreads the blanket open and then covers Hotaru's curled up frame underneath it. Standing over her, Mama looks down at the sleeping figure before her.

"What?" I ask, noticing the small knowing grin playing on her lips.

"Such a sweet, lovely little girl."

I roll my eyes. Oh Mama, you have no idea how wrong you are.

* * *

The next day, I wake up to someone hitting me a little too hard on the arm. Cracking my eyes open by a few millimetres, I look up to see Hotaru Imai towering over me, looking not the slightest happy.

"You should have woken me up last night."

I groan, only half registering her words since my brain doesn't function well into the afternoon. Imai smacks me across the head and I groan once more. "Are you even listening to me, Nogi?"

Hotaru half-groans, half-sighs. I can feel my bed tipping slightly to one side when she decides to sit at the edge of it, her fingers idly running through my hair. I sigh a little. That feels nice.

"Nogi,"

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you wake me up last night?"

"I did. You're a heavy sleeper."

Hotaru sighs again and I enjoy the momentary silence.

"Did something happen to your father?"

Those six words are more than enough to have me snap my eyes open quicker than anything else and my mind more awake than it has ever been in this early in the morning. It's better than any coffee there is on the planet. I jerk my head towards Hotaru to see her looking at me innocently with a tad of curiosity in her eyes.

"Yesterday, when I referred to your mother as 'Mrs Nogi', I noticed the change in both your expressions," she explains in her usual tone.

"Don't," I hiss, "don't pry. This has nothing to with you." I yank the covers away from me and set my feet onto the cold wooden floor, back facing Hotaru Imai.

"I'll send you home." I turn back to her, keeping a calm façade and trying to keep my voice in a level tone. "Would you like to stay for breakfast?"

Hotaru seems a little taken aback by my sudden outburst but she nods eventually. "I'll be outside."

It's only when I hear her leave the room, the door closing behind me did I let out a pent up breath, calming the anger bubbling in the pit of my guts.

What a brilliant way to begin Christmas.

* * *

We had some of the food that was leftover from last night's feast for breakfast before Hotaru and I left the apartment. Just before that, Mama appeared at her bedroom doorway, looking as groggy as ever. She peers at the two of us, then smiles. "Ah, Luca's girlfriend. Leaving? See you. Konnichiwa." Before the either of us can reply or correct her, Mama slams the door shut.

"I'm sorry." Hotaru says, fidgeting slightly in her seat when we're in the car. I can't help myself as I laugh heartily, earning a glare from the Ice Queen whose cheeks are almost as pink as they were last night, but this time from embarrassment.

Christmas, certainly a day for miracles.

"It's not every day you have Hotaru Imai saying 'sorry' to you now is it?"

Hotaru scoffs. "Oh wipe that stupid grin off your face will you? Forget whatever it is I just said."

"Oh, don't be so glum now, Hotaru. It's Christmas!"

"One more word, Nogi, and I'll deck you right here right now."

"Then who's gonna drive, eh?" I smile smugly. "With you knocking me out."

"Oh just shut up, you're giving me a headache." Hotaru grumbles then leans her forehead against the window, face scrunched up in pain. I hear her mumbling under her breath. "Stupid wine; shouldn't have touched it."

For a moment there I'm worried. I reach a hand out to touch her face while trying to keep my eyes on the road, which honestly speaking isn't exactly the easiest thing to do in the world. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, "keep your eyes on the road and try not to get us both killed."

"Do you need me to pull over?"

"_Just drive_."

"Yes, ma'am." I obey and try my best to focus my attention on the road. But I can't help myself as my eyes keep darting towards the direction of Hotaru who seems to be asleep just seconds after talking to me, her eyes shut tight. The only thing that keeps me company is the hum of the engine and the song 'Jingle Bells' that is being played on the radio.

Finally, upon reaching the Imai Tower, I pull the car over next to the guard house. A guard steps out from his booth, just when he's about to knock on the window, he freezes when he sees who's sitting in the passenger seat. I have my finger pressed to my lips, indicating that he should not wake her up by knocking but then again, after last night's ordeal, I'm not quite sure if an earthquake will be able to wake her up. The guard tips his hat knowingly before returning to his post. He salutes as I drive into the compound of Imai's private property.

"Hotaru, we're here." I pat her on the shoulder, as if that's going to wake her up. After killing the ignition, I step out of the car and head over to the passenger seat. Sighing as I open the door, I remove the belt that is keeping her safely in her seat before slipping my arms underneath her and carrying her. Thinking back, this should probably be the second time I've done something like this. Or the third?

But things don't go quite exactly how I'd like it to go.

Because the next thing I know, I find her looking up at me with her eyes wide open. From the looks of it, things are not going to be pretty. And they aren't because at the very moment she realises what's going on, Hotaru begins to struggle in my arms, her elbows hitting my chest every now and then while I try my best not to drop her onto the ground.

"What do you think you're doing? Let me go!"

"Fine, just—stop—moving!" I try my best to set her down gently onto the floor but it isn't easy placing the woman onto her pretty little feet while she's trashing like a wild animal in your arms. "Imai!" I shout and that seems to capture her attention because she freezes, eyes fixed onto mine. "Just stop." Once she calms down, I gently lower her onto the ground, allowing her to stand on her own two feet.

Once I straighten up, I realise that her face is flushed.

"Sorry." Hotaru apologises.

I wave my hand awkwardly. "It's all right. I understand. Well now that you're safe at home, I should be going."

Just when I'm about to turn and leave, she does the unexpected.

I stand rooted to the spot, suddenly incapable of moving a muscle as Hotaru's arms are wrapped around me. No parents watching, no cameras to pose for, our contract voided a month ago after her parents went back to France. But the truth is as it is. Hotaru Imai is actually embracing me, consciously and voluntarily.

For a second there I think I'm about to face an internal shutdown but then she pulls away a little too quickly. Her expression is stony but I can't help but feel it's just a mask.

"Thank you, Ruka Nogi, for everything," she says, her voice clipped and a little too formal. She clears her throat. "Happy Christmas."

And then she leaves me standing at the doorstep, slamming the door in my face. It takes almost a minute before I'm able to regain myself.

I smile.

"Happy Christmas to you too, Hotaru Imai."

* * *

_26__th__ of December_

"Come on, open it."

My hands are trembling as my fingers touch the bow that is tied neatly on top of the rectangular box wrapped in simple red wrapping paper, a small card with the words '_Merry Christmas—Imai Hotaru_' is stuck onto one of its corner. I flash a look at Mama who's almost as eager as I am to know what's inside.

"Well, here goes nothing."

In one quick movement I tear away the bow and rip the layer of paper away. I flick the box open to reveal its contents.

A blue silk tie, a matching handkerchief and a set of cufflinks, all tucked neatly into the box. Printed on the inside of the cover on the velvet lining is the word '_Rochsher_'.

"Oh," is the first word that escapes my mouth. Looking at Mama, I can tell that she is a little bit disappointed as well.

"Look, Mama," I say while unrolling the tie and placing it against my neck, "a tie!"

Am I disappointed? Yes, a little. Am I surprise? No. Why? Because really now, the last thing on Hotaru Imai's list of things to worry about would be this. And what better way to solve this worry is there than purchasing a readily available gift set.

And then it struck me.

"I haven't gotten her a present!"

* * *

_27__th__ of December_

"Miss Imai, something came in the mail for you today."

Hotaru Imai looks up from her newspaper at her butler, looking slightly puzzled. "What is it?"

Yamamoto hands her a silver box with a purple gift box stuck onto it, a card stuck onto a corner. She accepts it from his hands and flicks the card open to find out the identity of the sender.

_Merry Christmas — Nogi Ruka_

Hotaru cracks a smile when she realises words are written in the same format as hers was. "That little idiot's mocking me." She lifts the cover open only to find that lying snugly in the box is—

A bottle of perfume.

Hotaru blinks while Yamamoto stands beside her, staring expectantly at his employer. He watches as she gingerly lifts the bottle out from its box then sniffing it. She presses the nozzle gently and a mist of the fragrance is seen escaping the bottle. Hotaru takes two sniff of the air before placing the bottle back into its box.

"What do you know, Nogi has some good taste," she comments lightly. She replaces the cover and hands the box back to Yamamoto. "Place this on my dressing table along with the other bottle. It's running out isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," Yamamoto replies.

Hotaru nods then returns her attention to her newspaper. "Perfect timing."

As Yamamoto starts to leave and carry out Hotaru's instructions, he almost did a double take when he notice that for the first time in his life, after serving her for more than five years, he hears Hotaru Imai humming a tune.

Jingle Bells, to be exact.

* * *

**Merry Christmas! :D**


	12. Douze

**Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy. As usual, beta-ed by my-silver-lining**

* * *

onze

* * *

Ten.

"_It's going to be a great year," Koko comments enthusiastically while pulling both his fiancée and Yuu Tobita into headlock. _

_Our eyes meet, amethyst blending with sapphire._

Nine.

"_You're getting married to me for one."_

_Ever so gently, the corner of her lips curve up into a small smile. Not her usual smirk, but a lovely little smile._

Eight.

_Sumire Shouda scoffs and pulls his arm away. There's a quick sparkle when the diamond ring on her finger catches the light. "_I'm_ getting married to_ you_? Try the other way around, you dolt."_

_Her gaze is so intent and I feel myself melting away under it, little by little, bit by bit._

_What do you know, I'm being melted by the Ice Queen. Ahh, the irony._

Seven.

"_You're the wife, so you're getting married to me," Came the man's rebuke._

_She tears her eyes away to face the ground. Perhaps it's the light or because of bashfulness, there's a light tinge of red on her cheeks._

_Probably the lights, because as far as I know, Hotaru Imai is never shy. Humility has never been her thing._

Six.

"_In your dreams, Yome." Sumire rolls her eyes but she can't resist the grin that creeps up her lips._

"_Hey," I reach out to clasp her hands in mine._

Five.

_Yuu laughs as he watches the lovers' spat between the two. "Okay okay, I get it, you're both getting married."_

"_What are you doing, Nogi?" _

Four.

"_We'll see about that." Sumire mutters under her breath._

_I run a thumb against the back of her hand, "Are you cold?"_

Three.

"_Aww, don't be like that, wifey."_

"_Do I look like I'm cold?"_

Two.

"_I love you," and Koko kisses the top of Sumire's curls._

"_Well, I can never tell what you're feeling,"_

One.

"_Fine, I love you too."_

"_-no?"_

_As both the hour hand and the minute hand form a straight line pointing north, the crowd cheers as fireworks are launched into the sky, myriad of colours splatter across a black canvas._

_Glancing casually around the jubilant crowd, I see both Mikan and Natsume locked in a passionate embrace as Natsume mouths the words of "I love you" to his girlfriend; Koko and Sumire are no longer arguing as the latter presses her lips against her fiancé's._

"_Happy New Year, Nogi."_

_I lean in to plant a tender kiss right on her lips and watch as her cheeks grow redder by the second when I pull away._

"_Happy New Year to you too, Hotaru."_

The words are reverberating off the walls of my skull when my eyes snap open to meet with the morning sunlight streaming into my room through the curtains.

Oh god, what did I _do_?

_I _kissed her. I _kissed_ her. I kissed _her_.

Wait a minute…

I sit up from the bed, still in a daze but I realize that the pillows smell different and so does the entire room. Turning around, I scan the unfamiliar surroundings; nothing in sight is remotely familiar. Well, besides the pair of shoes at the foot of my bed. I can hear the sound of running water.

I close my eyes, ignoring the dull headache that is slowly growing in the back of my skull.

What happened last night?

I went to a bar with some friends. I had some beer. We laughed. I ate some fries. We talked. I drank more beer. Hotaru was wearing the perfume I gave her. I had more beer. We watched the firework show. I kissed Hotaru. Everything after that was a blur of colours and noises. Then it hit me.

I was _drunk_.

Someone turns off the running water in the bathroom and a moment later, Yuu Tobita appears in the room, wiping his face with a towel. He's startled when he notices that I'm awake.

"Hey, Ruka. Morning." He strides over to the mini bar, picks out two cans of coffee and throws one of them towards me. "You were pretty drunk last night."

I blink. "We're in a hotel?" The obvious answer is 'yes' because where else would you find beds and a mini bar, but my senses have yet to fully return.

Yuu nods and cracks open the can. "Traffic was horrid last night, thank god Imai managed to book us a hotel room beforehand. The rest of the group is here too, sans Imai. She left an hour ago." Yuu furrows his brows and scrutinises my face. "You alright? You don't look too good."

I press a hand to my forehead. The headache's growing worse by the second. "Yeah. I think it's just a hangover."

As if just realising it, Yuu looks surprised and hurries over to grab my can away. "Sorry, I forgot. You know, coffee, hangover, not pretty." He walks back to the mini bar, and then replaces the can into the fridge.

God, this headache is tearing me apart. I close my eyes, shutting them tight, wishing that the headache would just fade away. Why did I have to drink so much last night?

When I open my eyes once more, there's a glass of water before me, offered by Yuu. "This should make you feel better." I accept it with a word of thanks and drain the cup of its content in seconds. Yuu takes a seat on the edge of that bed that's next to me—his bed most likely—then watches me intently, as if there's something about me that gnawing at the back of his mind.

"I never knew beer could be so lethal."

His eyebrows creases, puzzled. "Well, beer can't do this to you all by itself."

"But that's all I had… Right?" Right? I remember throwing back a couple glasses of beer last night and that was it. Believe me when I say that despite the fact that I don't drink too often, I have never ever gotten drunk from drinking too much beer. Not even when I had about twenty bottles of it during graduation all those years ago.

Okay. Maybe I had _one_ shot of whiskey last night. Just one.

I think.

"You do remember playing Fivers right?"

Oh crap. I groan loudly.

Fivers is a drinking game which Natsume and I are big fans of—though he's remarkably good at it while I suck. Basically, a person has to mention a number within the given limit and the number has to be a multiple of five. At the same time, everyone else in the game would choose to show their palms or fists or one of each. Opened hands would mean a five while fists would mean zero. If all the hands add up to the number mentioned, that person who mentioned it would have to throw back a shot of whiskey.

Sounds easy enough right? Sure it is. But that doesn't mean I'm good at it.

In fact, I'm terribly bad at it.

"Damn." I mutter, covering my face with my palms. Fivers has never ended well for me; it will probably never end well for me. For one, compared to beer, my tolerance for whiskey is much lower, less than five shots later I'll be more than drunk. Once I puked in Natsume's car and for months he wouldn't let me near it. Admittedly, I had zero recollection of that ever happening. Then again, being drunk has always cost me my memory of the previous night.

"Did anything stupid happen?"

"Well," Yuu scratches the back of his head, "Koko almost punched a waiter and he broke a lamp so it's best if he stays away from Beerkeep for the time being." (Beerkeep being the restaurant/bar we decided to spend New Year's Eve in.) "Other than that, nothing much."

"Did _I_ do anything stupid?" Please say no, please say no.

Yuu shakes his head slowly. "No. You passed out after six shots. Koko was the only one who did stupid things, can't say I'm surprised though."

At this moment, there's someone banging on our door. Yuu gets up from the bed and head over to open it. The moment he twists the knob, Koko barges into the room and mutters a string of expletives under his breath as he almost trips over a chair. He steadies himself by holding onto the wall while scanning the room through half-closed eyelids.

"Anyone of you over here have pills to cure this fucking migraine I'm having?"

Yuu replies a curt 'no' and I shake my head. Disappointed and exhausted, Koko throws himself onto Yuu's bed. "Bloody hell."

"Would you like some water?" Yuu asks but he's already pouring Koko a glass. The newcomer's reply is a just a muffled grunt.

Koko sits up on the bed and takes three large gulps of water when the glass was offered to him; it is easily emptied in less than two seconds. He burps, bangs the glass on the bedside table, then proceeds to stare at me intently, his expression no different from Yuu's a while ago.

"I-is there something on my fa—?"

His question escapes his lips before I have a chance to finish my sentence. "Are you dating Imai?"

Well, that was unexpected.

"Sumire's been asking me that question the entire morning. That's the main reason why I'm here, actually. As much as I love that woman, mother of my future babies, sometimes she just needs to _shut_ the fuck up."

My jaw drops open. Well can't really say that I'm surprised by the question, frankly I've been asking myself that question for a while now.

Hotaru Imai and I have been having a pretty awkward relationship. We used to be strangers, then fake lovers, then we 'broke up' when her parents went back to France, then she said we could be friends and that's what we settled with. Friends.

But now...

…now…

We aren't lovers, we're not boyfriend-girlfriend or anything of that sort. We still hang out, just a few days ago she asked me out for lunch. We don't get on each other's nerves so much like last time.

And then last night, I kissed her.

I, Ruka Nogi, kissed her, Hotaru Imai.

Of all the people I could've kissed, I decided to smash my lips against Hotaru Imai's.

Freaking brilliant.

"That was actually what I wanted to ask him before you barged in," Yuu says to Koko. With his bed occupied, Yuu chooses to sit on a chair instead. "Natsume and Mikan told me what happened between the two of you—well, mostly Mikan to be honest—and I thought that since Imai's parents have left, you two were not, well, you know."

"Wait wait wait, slow down, rewind. What happened between the two of them?" Koko asks. It seems like his hangover is gone since he seems fully conscious, his huge eyes staring at Yuu, completely focused.

Yuu adjusts his glasses then begins to explain the condensed version of the relationship between Hotaru and me, from how we met, to the brief details of our 'contract', to whatever else that happened after.

Mikan has sure told him _a lot_.

"No way," Koko whispers in an almost breathless way once Yuu's finished with his story. Then he turns his attention towards me. "You, Ruka Nogi, have got to marry her."

Wait what? Huh? What? _What?_

"_What_?"

In a split of a second, Koko's standing right in front of me, his hands pressing down on both my shoulders. "Ruka Nogi, listen _very_ carefully to me and forgive me if I sound incoherent because this is how I usually am when I'm excited and this stupid hangover just makes it ten times more worse." He sucks in a deep breath. "I have known Hotaru Imai for years now, ever since middle school, ever since our Alice Academy days, so have Sumire, Yuu, Natsume and Mikan, Mikan knowing her the longest. That woman has fucked up my life on countless occasions and though I might not have loved her before, but she's like my sister now, my sadistic, anti-social, weird, scary sister. But my point is, I—" he looks over to Yuu who seems to be immensely amused, "—_we _have _never_, I cannot stress this enough, _never ever, ever, ever, ever_ seen her treat _any_ guy, not me, not Yuu, not Natsume, absolutely no guy at all, as well as she treats you. No guy would have survived if he so much as touched her hand, not even that stupid boyfriend she once had—what's his name again?"

"Hayate Matsudaira," replies Yuu.

"Right," Koko turns back to me, "not even that nutcase Matsudaira. If he so much as held her hand, let alone _kiss_ her, Hotaru Imai would've gone ballistic and turned him into a girl. But you, _you_ my friend, you're special. I—" Koko looks over to Yuu once more, "—_we_ saw you last night and we saw her. We saw how she acted around you, normal people might not notice it, but Hotaru was _different _when she was around you. I swear to you, she was. If there's one thing that could make that woman smile, it's money and frankly, she looked like she was talking to a mountain of cash when she was talking to you.

"And then you kissed her last night. You _kissed_ her, right on the lips. BAM! And from what I've heard just now, with you no longer playing the boyfriend role, you're _not _supposed to kiss her, but you did anyway and you're alive. Shit! That woman is bloody in love with you and she probably doesn't even know it."

Koko releases me and runs a hand through his hair. The next second, he's gripping me tight again, giving me the crazy eyes. "Do you love her?"

"W-w-what?" I splutter. Koko shakes me hard. My headache just got ten times worse.

"Answer me!" he roars into my face. "Do you, or do you not, love her?"

"I don't know!" My thoughts are all in disarray and my heart is beating erratically. What the hell. An hour ago I was still peacefully asleep and now_ this_ happened.

Koko waves his fists in the air like a maniac. "How can you fucking not know? Gaahhhh! Fantastic. Just bloody fucking fantastic. Now I have two idiots in my hands who don't even know that they're in love with one another. I. Literally. Feel. Like. Smacking. You. Two. Across. Your. Faces!"

This time, Koko presses his sweaty palms on both sides of my head, his crazy brown eyes staring straight into mine. "Listen very, very, very, v_ery_ carefully to me. Follow my words to the _letter_. One, I want you to go into the bathroom and brush your teeth, cause frankly, your breath smells disgusting. Two, Yuu will send you to Hotaru's since he's the one with the clear head over here. Three, I want you to bring your sorry little ass up to her gargantuan penthouse, knock on the door and ask for an audience with her. Four, pay very close attention to this because this is _crucial_. When you see her, I want you to tell her how bloody much you're in love with her. Just look into her eyes and say, 'I am fucking in love with you, Hotaru Imai.' Just that. That's it." He smacks me across my head and groaned. "Just one night, _one dinner_, and I've already seen through the both of you and I think I'm going to go mad because of your stupidity. Call me a mind-reader, call me clairvoyant—whatever that word means—but I can tell that you're in love with her just as much as she is with you. You wouldn't have kissed her if you didn't now, would you?"

Koko tugs on my arms, pulling me from my bed and shoves me hard on the back. "Now go! I want that mouth of your minty fresh. Allons-y, my friend, we have a wedding to catch!"

He pushes me into the cramped bathroom but just before he slams the door in my face, Koko winks and points at the new blue silk tie hanging loosely around my neck. "I like your tie. It brings out the blue in your eyes."

Without having a chance to say thanks, the door shuts in front of my face with a loud bam.

* * *

Yuu pulls his car over by the sidewalk and cranes his neck to look at the Imai Tower looming before us. He turns his head to me and sighs.

"About Koko," we haven't spoken a word since Koko made us leave the room and the silent was comforting after that blonde's crazy outburst. "I'm sorry about him. He can get kind of—" Yuu pauses, trying to think of a word that's best to describe his friend, "—_out-of-hand_ at times."

"You don't say."

Yuu places a hand on my shoulder. "But he means well." I nod, not knowing what to say next. My heart hasn't returned to its normal pace and my mind still a blur.

Eventually, I speak. "Yuu, I'm not going to die am I? When I go up there and do what I'm told, she's not going to kill me is she?"

Believe me, I am scared _shitless_. I know how scary that woman who resides on the top floor of Imai Tower can be. Perhaps there's some truth in Koko's words, but what if he was wrong? What if _I'm_ wrong?

Yuu sends me a reassuring smile. "You won't. He might have sounded crazy, but Koko was right. I have never, _ever_ seen Hotaru Imai so—different. This might sound cliché, but yesterday when you were with her, Hotaru looked like a different person. She actually seemed happy.

"I can send you home now if you want and I can deal with Koko's shit when he finds out that you've bailed, but I just want you to know that if you don't risk it this time, you might never will and perhaps one day you'll look back and regret not telling her how you feel." He looks away and stares out his window. "I made that mistake once and there's not one day that goes by where I don't regret my lack of courage."

Oh wow.

"Uhh, so how's the girl? The one you let got away?"

A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. "Happily married, has a kid now."

"Have you seen her recently?"

Yuu shakes his head. "Nope. She moved to New York with her husband shortly after their wedding. I only heard about her having a son from a mutual friend. I can't even find her on Facebook."

I let out a shaky exhale, mentally preparing myself for what's to come.

"You think this is going to work?"

Yuu shrugs, not exactly what I'd call comforting. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But there's nothing to lose right? It's not like she'll avoid you like a plague after it. We're all adults. Not a bunch of high-school kids." Then he gives me one last pat on the shoulder.

"I don't know what's going to happen, but trust me," he smiles, "you'll be fine."

* * *

My hands feel sweaty, my legs are tired and my mouth feels parched. I close my eyes and take in deep breaths.

_Everything's going to be alright. I'll be fine._

After what feels like an eternity later, I hear the shuffling of feet behind me. Turning around, I see Hotaru rubbing her eyes and walking towards me. She's no longer in that body-hugging cocktail dress she wore last night, opting for a large t-shirt and silk pants instead.

God she looks so beautiful.

I can hear the blood in my ears.

I can feel my heart beating in my chest.

Damn. I think I'm in love with her.

Still a little dazed, my legs stretch out, one before the other, closing the distance before us.

"Nogi, you better have a good reason for waking me up or I will—"

I wrap my arms around Hotaru's frame, around her small waist before she even has a chance to realise what's happening. The scent of the perfume she wore last night still lingers on her skin, tickling my senses. I close my eyes and gently press my lips to hers.

If I die today, might as well go out with a bang.

* * *

**I must go, my planet needs me. I've no idea when I'll be back. In the meantime, you could keep yourself busy with my other stories. Till then. (:**


	13. Treize

**Warning: Contains OOC-ness.**

* * *

treize

* * *

The first person to receive a call from me is no other than Natsume Hyuuga himself. And that happens a week after New Year's.

To put it shortly, he's not happy.

"You _what_?"

I have to pull the phone a few inches away from my ear, afraid that Natsume's voice could very well blast my eardrum into pieces. Once his voice has died down, I take a deep breath before placing the phone back against my ear.

"Hotaru and I, we got together."

I keep quiet as a string of expletives escape his lips, from female dogs to things that are much too disturbing to mention. Even coming from him.

"Natsume—"

"Ruka, even if Imai's the last woman on earth, even if she's the last _human_ on earth, you _don't_ choose her." Again, a string of curses.

"Come on, Nat. Hotaru's not that bad."

"Yeah, and Hitler's a fucking saint while the Nazis are his legions of angels."

I sigh. To be honest, I can never understand this animosity between the two of them even though I've asked Hotaru and Mikan countless times about it.

Their responses? A casual shrug. That's all.

I did try asking Natsume about it once, but it was only that one time because his reply was far from a shrug. Instead, Natsume had flung the book in his hand across the room, growled and told me to shut up and never speak of it again.

A moment of silence passes between us. I kick away a pebble by my foot and watch as it flies to a nearby bush. For some reason, Natsume has the power to make me feel like a child being interrogated whenever he's furious at me even though I'm the one who is eight months older.

Natsume breaks the silence with a groan and I hear a door being slammed shut. "Why her?"

As I crane my head to look at the clear sky above and feel the cool winter breeze on my cheeks, I give his question some serious thoughts before realizing that the answer's simple. Was that not the question that has plagued me for months now? Every time her face appears in my mind, every time something reminds me of her, and every time my heart races when I see her, that question always followed. Even after calming myself down with Hotaru sitting beside me quietly after that kiss in her penthouse, I never stopped asking myself that question, over and over and over again, for thousands and millions of time.

Why her?

I asked because I didn't know the answer, or more accurately speaking, I didn't want to acknowledge it even though it was staring at me right in the face all this time.

"Because Natsume," I begin slowly, "I'm in love with her. That woman who made my life miserable, that woman you hate for some reason I have no knowledge of. I love her Natsume. You might call me an idiot or a masochist, but I love her. I do. Perhaps not as much as you love Mikan, _yet_, but I'm positive that I'm in love with her."

I wait patiently before Natsume sighs for the umpteenth time and then hangs up.

Though not before spitting out, "You sound like a girl."

* * *

"Try not to tell anyone, for now."

Those were Hotaru's parting words right before I left her penthouse. As much as I wanted to honour that promise by keeping our relationship a secret, I did spill the beans to Natsume. Then again, that guy knows practically everything about my life since friendship is built on trust or however that saying goes.

Truthfully, I didn't expect that the news would travel far if I've told Natsume and Natsume only. But I guess at that time, I had forgotten one crucial fact.

Natsume's dating Mikan Sakura. If there's one thing she's known for, it's for being a loud chatterbox.

The next thing I know, my phone's ringing non-stop as the phone calls keep coming.

There's Mikan who is the first person to send her congratulations to Hotaru and me through intervals of sobs and sniffles and giggles and squeals.

Then there is Koko. Though I have no idea how he managed to get a hold of my number—I'm guessing Mikan—but according to him, the news came to him from his friend who came from his other friend who happens to be friends with a friend of Mikan's.

"Why didn't you tell me? Do you know how hurt I am right now? To receive this news from friends of friends of friends, I was your Cupid dammit! The least you could do was send some flowers to show your gratitude! Now I'm hurt, you didn't even give me a call and said 'why hello there Mr Yome, I'm here to thank you for your guidance in helping me to realise and acknowledge my undying love towards Hotaru Imai. Thanks to you, the two of us are now able to live happily ever after'."

What is this, I don't even… Insert perplexed-looking-Jackie-Chan meme here.

Then calls from Sumire, Yuu, Anna and even Hayate Matsudaira manage to reach me.

Unlike the other well-wishers, Matsudaira sounded far from pleased on the phone.

"YOU'RE DATING HOTARU? HOW COULD YOU?"

"Who is this?" I look at my caller ID only to confirm that it's from a private number. "Hello?"

"YOU GUYS WERE FAKING IT? YOU WEREN'T DATING? BUT NOW YOU ARE? WHAT IS THIS? YOU CAN'T YOU CAN'T YOU CAN'T YOU CAN'T! HOTARU CAN'T POSSIBLY CHOOSE _YOU_, OF ALL PEOPLE. YOU'RE POOR, YOU'RE NOT HIGHLY EDUCATED, YOU DON'T COME FROM A PROMINENT FAMILY, NO ONE EVEN KNOWS YOUR FAMILY, YOU'RE A NOBODY AND YET SHE CHOSE YOU? OF ALL PEOPLE SHE CHOSE YOU? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY POOR HOTARU, WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY COOL BLUE SKY? I SWEAR TO YOU, I, HAYATE MATSUDAIRA WILL NOT GIVE UP JUST YET! JUST YOU—"

"Ahh… Matsudaira, good day. Good bye." Before he can even finish his sentence, I shut my phone tight and his screams die away.

Crazy people can certainly be crazy.

With a sigh, I lean back into my couch, savouring the much-needed silence. I should probably turn off my phone, and with that thought in mind, I pick up that dreaded device. Just as my thumb hover above the button, the screen lights up and my ringtone plays. Across the screen are the words 'private'. I press answer against my better judgements.

"Matsudaira, look, Hotaru and I—"

"Matsudaira?"

Upon hearing the voice, my back stiffens. "H-Hotaru?"

"Matsudaira? _Hayate_ Matsudaira? Did that idiot call you?" She curses under her breath, "But he can wait. Didn't I tell you to shut up about it? The hell were you thinking blabbering to everyone else? Do you have a death wish? Is that it?"

Sweat begins to break out on my palms. "Hotaru, listen I just told one person which was Natsume. But then I guess he told Mikan and Mikan told everyone else…" I gulp. "Is this bad?"

Hotaru pauses. "No, it's just—it's just I knew that this would happen. I had to get a new number because my old one just wouldn't stop ringing. Mikan's called me four times today."

I cough out a laugh. "Yeah? Natsume's called me a few times as well. But he didn't call just to congratulate me; in fact, he's trying to talk me out from dating you."

Hotaru scoffs. "Ass." She sighs, grumbles incoherently for a moment then sigh again. "Is it that much of a surprise that I'm dating you?"

"Well," I remember Matsudaira's words, "I'm low-class, not quite poor but not that rich either, not quite highly-educated, no one knows my family since I don't come from a prominent one. I believe there's reason for people to be surprised.

"Then there's you, the cold, calculative Ice Queen who's been single ever since breaking up with Hayate Matsudaira all those years ago. Then suddenly people find out that you're dating again, but this time not with some billionaire's son, but with me. Ruka Nogi, a vet whose income is probably only one per cent of yours. I'm not quite your type, Hotaru. And to be honest, if you'd asked me what my type is a year ago, you definitely wouldn't be mine either."

The line goes quiet as Hotaru doesn't reply. "H-Hotaru?"

"So I'm not your type, is that what you're saying?" Her voice is soft and for a second there I think that she's been offended.

"N-n-no, that's not it. Well, you're not the type I had in mind. I-I mean you're not exactly the kind of woman I thought I'd fall for. Wait wait, no that's not it. What I mean is, I didn't know that I liked girls like you, I like you a lot Hotaru. I really do. Well, perhaps not 'like', I love you, but I understand if you don't love _love_ me, I'll try my best, seriously. I prom—"

"Is that what you tell all the girls you date?"

Her question is enough to stop me in the middle of my nonsensical rambling and I begin to splutter. "W-w-w-wha-wha-what? N-n-no! O-o-of course not! T-t-that's no—"

"Whatever, there's something I need to do. I'm hanging up."

"Oh. Oh. Okay then, bye I guess."

Just before Hotaru hangs up, her voice appears once more through the phone. "And Nogi, stop fretting. You are my type."

And my heart literally skips a beat.

* * *

Now here's the thing about dating Hotaru Imai, it's mother of god stressful. Perhaps it's because how impassive she always seems, even though a storm might be brewing inside her head. One second she might be calmly reading a book, then the next second you'll find yourself having the Baka Cannon pointing right in your face.

You'll _never_ know what's going on in that head of hers.

Nonetheless, spring's come and gone as summer arrives earlier than usual and four months have passed. While photos of the two of us going hand-in-hand, attending charity balls and being all couple-y are splashed across the front of entertainment magazines and tabloids, things are not quite what others are expecting as the two of us decide to spend the Saturday strolling in the park along with the Hyuuga couple.

"Over here!" Surprised, Hotaru and I look over to the brunette with a Polaroid camera in her hands, Hotaru in mid-sentence. Before either of us can gather ourselves, the button is clicked and out comes a photo. A rather funny photo with Hotaru's mouth hanging, though the reality is far from amusing.

"Mikan," Hotaru quips, "you should really stop wasting your film."

Mikan waves her hand with a laugh. "It's okay, there's plenty of it." She then pats her bag, full of Polaroid films. "Natsume, over there." Tugging the arm of a reluctant Natsume, Mikan sprints towards another direction, leaving Hotaru and I to finish what we started.

"I'm not moving out, Hotaru. I don't care how big your place is, or how many rooms there are or how many people it can house, I'm _not _moving out." She sneers and I can feel myself fuming at her reaction. I'm used to the condescending treatment by all those from the upper class whenever I'm forced to attend functions with her, but never in our four months of courtship has Hotaru ever looked down at me because of my financial status. It was clear that she understood my situation. She has boasted about her own magnificence, she has belittled my intelligence, but the topic of my wealth—or the lack of it—was never brought up between the two of us.

Until now, that is.

That raven-haired devil scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Are you satisfied living in that sorry excuse for an apartment? It can hardly be called an apartment, you can't possibly live there and be alright about it. That place is horrendously small and there's barely any room for two to move. How can you possibly not consider moving into Imai Tower?"

"Shut up, Hotaru Imai, stop exaggerating. Although my place isn't as big as yours, but neither is it as small as you make it out to be. And for the last time, woman, I'm not moving in with you. There is absolutely no reason for me to do so, last time I check we're only dating and frankly, we're not doing a really good job at it!"

As the two of us stand in the middle of the road giving each other cold hard stares into the eyes, I soon realise that attentions are being gathered as heads begin to turn in our direction. Hotaru seems to realise this too because she immediately adjusts her sunglasses and link our arms together and begins to walk.

Hotaru closes her eyes and exhales a shaky breath before speaking in a lower voice, "'Not doing a very good job at it'? Is that supposed to mean something, Nogi?"

I mentally groan. What the hell am I getting myself into? "I'm not moving in with you, Hotaru. Unless the two of us are married, I'm not moving in with you. Heck, even if we are, I won't move into the Imai Towers. I didn't date you for that. I'm not that kind of guy nor do I want to live off you. I'd rather live on the streets than do that. I'm not rich, but that doesn't mean that I can't hold onto some shred of dignity."

But all of Hotaru's attention seems to be on one word and one word only. "Married?" For the first time in the year that I've known her, Hotaru Imai falters in her speech. "I-is that what you want? Marriage?"

Gone was the rage in her eyes, only to be replaced by complete and utter shock. It is then I realise that I've been talking without really processing my words. "I-I-I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

Then there's sadness, surprise and a tad bit of disappointment as she furrows her brows. "So what? You don't want to get married?"

Slowly, I shake my head. "I don't know."

At this very moment, my ringtone pierces through the thick awkwardness between the two of us. Frankly, I'm unbelievably thankful for an excuse to distract myself from this argument that seems to be spiralling out of control. I clear my throat then answer the call, looking away from her.

"Hello?"

At first there is just silence, but after a minute or so and another 'hello', a deep, raspy male voice speaks. "Ruka?"

"Hello? Who is this?" The caller is an unknown number. I glance over at Hotaru, her expression unreadable as she stares into space, something that only anyone _but _Hotaru would do.

"Ruka Nogi? Are you Ruka Nogi?"

"Yes, this is Ruka Nogi speaking. May I know who's on the line?"

As I listen to the heavy breathings from the other party, I look over at Hotaru again, her face paler than usual. Worried and forgetting about our argument, I reach out to touch her hand, curling my fingers around hers.

"How are you?" The person asks.

"I'm fine. Who's this?"

"It's—I'm—Ruka—It's been a while."

"Who the hell is this? Is this some kind of joke? Is this a prank call?"

"Is it possible for us to meet face-to-face?." His voice is soft.

I can feel my patience running short. "Excuse me, but I'm not in the mood for games. I don't know who are you or how you found my number but I'd appreciate if you don't call me again, good day."

"Ruka, please, it's been so long..." His words are enough to creep me out but just when I'm about to hang up, something clicks in the deepest recess of my brain and a face flashes past.

No.

My eyes widen and I can feel the blood draining from my face. Sensing something's wrong, Hotaru stares at me, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

It takes me a while, but when I manage to find my voice, only one word is able to escape from my lips.

"Father…"

It feels like years before he finally answers. "Yes. It's me. Ruka I—"

Without giving a chance to explain himself, I hang up. I close my eyes and keep them shut till a hand touches my shoulder. It's Hotaru, looking more worried and puzzled than she's ever been.

"What's wrong?" Unlike before, her tone's soft, concerned and compromising. I shake my head and curtly reply, "Nothing."

But of course, only a fool would believe me and Hotaru is far from one. She merely arches an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why are your hands shaking?"

I didn't even realise that they were until she mentions it. I stuff them into my pockets, calm myself down, then turn on my heels.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Natsume and Mikan," I reply without looking back. I hear her footsteps behind me as she catches up with me, then grips on my arm.

"Don't walk away like this Nogi, tell me what's wrong."

I turn to look at her but the words just won't form themselves on my lips as my thoughts are in shambles. This isn't something that can be understood through a sentence or two. No, this is a story that needs at least an hour, a hot cup of tea and a whole bucket of guts to tell. And frankly, I don't have any of them at the moment.

"You can stay here if you want," I reply coldly, trying hard not to let the emotions show, especially not in my voice, "I'm going to look for them."

Though she doesn't say another word, nor do I look at her face, I can tell that she's hurt. The disappointment is hanging so thick in the air, suffocating us both.

After twenty minutes of directionless walking, we do manage to find the couple sitting on a bench, enjoying their ice cream in the hot weather. As we close in on them, Natsume flicks a glance at my direction. With only one look, he can tell that something's wrong and gives me a subtle nod of his head. Mikan on the other hand, doesn't seem to have noticed; if she did, she doesn't make a show of it.

"I'll be back," he tells Mikan, gives her a kiss on the head then throws an arm around my shoulder. Hotaru walks pass us without a word to take Natsume's seat besides Mikan. Just before the two of us are about to round a corner, I take a peek to see that Mikan's animatedly showing Hotaru the photos she took but the latter just sits there, eyes fixated on me.

"Tell me now, what's wrong? Did you and the Ice Queen have a spat?" Natsume asks. "What did I tell you, should've run away when you had the chance. But you wouldn't listen." At this point, he's smirking, as if saying 'I told you so'.

I look away. "It's not that." I steel myself as I deliver the news. "My father called."

If the situation wasn't as serious as it is, I would've laughed at Natsume's expression as his eyes widen into discs.

"The hell…?"


	14. Quatorze

**Beta-ed by my-silver-lining. Long one up ahead, enjoy. :D**

* * *

quatorze

* * *

This is the story of a man from Japan and a woman from France—you could say it's an international story. It all started when said man took a trip to France along with his friends. On the last day of their trip, with every single thing on their agenda ticked off, they decided to spend it in their hotel room. But the man was still eager to explore, he was in Paris for goodness sake, the heart of France. So while his friends were still fast asleep well into the afternoon, the man slipped away quietly and began to wander around the city on his own.

Perhaps it was fate or perhaps it was something else, but the man happened to stumble upon an old building, built in the 1800s. Unlike his friends, the man had a special place in his heart for his love for architecture. He needn't refer to the guide in his hand to know what this building was for it served as the setting for the story he had read over and over again—The Phantom of The Opera. The building before it was none other than the _Palais Garnier_, also known as the Paris Opera House.

And so feeling like a little kid in the zoo, the man got himself a ticket and went inside the opera house, marvelling at the magnificence of its interior, from the grand staircase to intricate carvings on the pillars. He sighed in awe and couldn't believe how golden everything was.

Now as he stepped into the foyer, a certain ballerina was escaping from practice. There was a production tonight at the _Palais Garnier_ and she knew how important this was.

"Everyone's going to be there."

"It will be the performance of the lifetime."

"We cannot afford any mistakes."

Those were the words she was always told and she believed them. But there were only so many arabesques and pirouettes one can do before one snaps and this woman had snapped hours before now. Her toes were begging for mercy but the instructor would have none of it and along with the other dancers, musicians and backstage workers, she had been here since six in the morning.

So when it was time for lunch, she sneaked away from the auditorium while no one was looking, slipped on some pants and a jacket over her unitard then escaped. She had been here for a week now but never once did she have the chance to properly visit the famous opera house. All the grand foyers, regal staircases, breathtaking chandeliers, she hadn't had the chance to see any of them. Since this would be the last time she'd be here, it was either now or never.

Sure the instructor would be mad at her and she'd get into plenty of trouble if she got caught, but then again, she was never known for keeping quiet and playing by the rules. If she was anything, she was definitely the rebellious one.

"Just ten minutes. Ten minutes and I'll be back." She told herself. Wrapping the jacket tightly around her body, she began to run.

Now the two lives intertwined when the man was still in the foyer, examining the art painted on the ceiling above him. When he bent his neck down to relax after craning it for so long, he was surprised to see a woman walking around like one of the tourists who came to see the opera house. However, what truly intrigued him was her outfit: a jacket with the hood pulled up, a pair of pants that were much too baggy for her and to top it all off, on her feet were ballet shoes.

Sensing eyes on her, the woman turned to the man's direction and stared at him. "_Oui?_"

Caught off guard, the man didn't know what to do. His first thought was to ignore her and quickly walk away, acting like nothing has happened. But there was something about this Frenchwoman who he had never met before intrigued him. So he stared back, cleared his throat and in his best efforts, replied in English. "You ballet dancer?"

The woman smiled politely and nodded. "_Oui_."

The conversation could've ended then and there and the two could walk away, back to their separate lives but the man didn't want to leave, so he kept the ball rolling. "Here?" His fingers pointed downwards to the floor, indicating the opera house itself.

"_Eh bien_, not a dancer here, as in the opera house's dancer, but I'll be performing here."

Her English was immaculate though coated with a thick layer of accent so the Japanese man had a hard time understanding her. His English was far from perfect, but he did catch the word 'perform'. "Perform? You perform here?" Ballet performances were something that he had only heard about. He never had a chance to watch one back in Japan.

"_Oui_," she paused, thinking of her next words. She had never gotten the chance to meet a Japanese person before and so she was curious, to say the least. And besides, there was something about the man that interested her. "Do you know _Roméo et Juliette_?"

"_Romio to jurietto? Hai_, I know," the man replied, more animated than ever. His reaction caused the woman to grin and for a second there, the man was blinded by her smile.

"We'll be performing that tonight, here. _Roméo et Juliette de Serge Prokofiev_."

Hearing her speak in both English and French at once was enough to confuse the Japanese and he was at lost. The Frenchwoman seemed to have noticed this and she regretted it immediately. She gave him an apologetic smile. "_Pardon_. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. No sorry. So you perform now?"

"_Non non_, it's tonight. We're having the rehearsals now. Practice." And then she remembered her practice. "_Merde!_ I have to go! Bye bye. It's nice meeting you."

She stuck out a hand and once again, the Japanese was at loss but he did reach out a hand to accept it. She shook it quickly then hurried off

"Eh! _Dokkoi!_ What is your name? I am Nogi Tetsuya."

"Lisette de La Fouchardière." And then she was gone from his sights.

With a smile on his face, Tetsuya ran her name over his tongue a few times, his eyes staring into the distance, thinking to himself, _we will meet again, Rizetto-san_.

* * *

"Your _father_ called you?"

I nod. "It was him." I don't know what to feel as anger, surprise, disgust and all other emotions begin to boil inside me.

"Jesus, what does he want?" Natsume thumps the bark of the tree next to him. "How long has it been? Ten years?"

"Seven," I reply. The last time I saw my father was seven years ago, on my 21st birthday and it did not go well. As hard as I had tried to lock away memories from resurfacing, my father's reappearance in my life is enough to peel that bandage away. I can feel prickly pain again. "He said he wants to see me."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know," I reply and shrug my shoulders, "I really don't want to see him."

Natsume folds his arms before his chest and snorts. "I would. Then beat the shit out of him. Remember what he did on your seven years ago? On your 21st? That fucker had the nerve—"

"Natsume," I stop him before he can continue, "I really don't want to talk about it." But of course, he need not continue, as the memory has already found its way into my mind. Vivid as ever, in its wake the usual humiliation and fury wash over me, and a familiar pit in my stomach forms.

I was still in college back then. Ever since my father left us for Japan when I was eight, we never heard from him. That is until a year later, he came back, not for a family reunion, but an announcement that he was divorcing Mama and already had a fiancée who was pregnant with his child in Japan.

Mama was devastated and after that she was a walking zombie, the life sucked away from her eyes and her speech. Fortunately, she realised that she had to be strong as I was depending on her, so she steeled herself and went through life as normally as she could, always wearing that mask of happiness as she went to work as a ballet instructor in a prominent dance school. But even till now, the sadness still lingers in her eyes like a permanent tattoo.

Growing up without a father was not as hard as I expected it to be. As the years passed, I realised that I wasn't really missing out on anything. I went to school, I made friends, and I had one of two girlfriends back in high school. Contrary to popular belief, life _did _achieve a certain level of normalcy for me. Yet, I did grow up to detest the man who abandoned my mother and me, and the sheer mention of my father was enough for me to throw a fit.

I had a father but not a dad. While my father was in Japan, my dad died when I was eight.

So I lived a normal life, sans father. Mama never did remarry, nor did she date anyone. Perhaps it's because after father, she just couldn't bring herself to believe in romantic relationships anymore, love in a romantic sense was dead to her. Mama became incredibly careful of her feelings after that incident. Nonetheless, she was a great mother towards me, there's no one else I love more than her.

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to become a vet, but I knew that the tuition fees won't be cheap and I knew that I didn't stand a chance if I wanted to apply for scholarship. Yet there was a backup plan: I could become a dance teacher. Growing up with Mama meant growing up dancing. Mama always said that I learned how to dance before I could even walk. Everyone told me I had the talent, and so I gave up on my dreams to become a vet and focused on dancing instead.

But then, Mama always knew of my dream and she didn't want to see me give it up. It pained her to see that she couldn't fulfil her child's greatest dream. That's when my father re-entered the picture. Back in Japan, he worked as the director of a corporate company, no doubt that with his salary he could easily pay for my tuition fees. So Mama approached my father and the next thing I knew, I was being whisked away to Japan along with the man I had grown to hate just so my childhood dream could come true.

I had to give up everything I love for something I detest to achieve something I have been longing for my entire life. See the irony?

Fast forward to my 21st birthday. The thing is, my father might have paid for my studies, but rarely did we see each other. While he lived in a nice house with wife and daughter, I lived in the dormitories instead—which is where I came to know Natsume, but that's a different story altogether. Only on special occasions did we meet each other for dinner but we never parted on a good note. My 21st was no exception, in fact, it was a complete nightmare.

Here's the thing: I have never met my father's other family. He never talked about them much, he never brought them to the dinners we went for nor have I seen their photos or anything. But on the night of the dinner for the celebration of my 21st, they were there. For some reason I do not know of, against his better judgements, my father brought them along.

You can only imagine how awkward things were. And it certainly did not take long for things to get out of hand.

"Ruka," he greeted me with a hug. I kept my hands to my sides and stood as stiff as a pole as he patted my back. As he pulled away, he gestured towards the two female sitting at the table. "Ruka, this is your stepmother, Keiko and that's your sister, Mia."

Stepmother? Sister? I wanted to break his nose then and there. But I knew better, so as my fists itched to punch the crap out of him, I forced out a smile and said a curt 'hello'.

It was obvious that Keiko was not too happy to see me either as the two corners of her lips were pulled downwards. She acknowledged my presence with just a stiff nod. No doubt that the happiest person in the room was my father, and grins and cheery voice. Even Mia seemed less than amused.

"Sit, Ruka. And order whatever you want, it's your birthday so it doesn't matter, you can eat to your heart's content." The only seat left was between Mia and Keiko. I wondered whose brilliant idea it was to seat me between those two. "Mia, he's your brother Ruka."

"I don't have a brother."

All eyes in the room immediately fell on her. Keiko gripped onto her daughter's hand tightly and whispered something into her ear. But just when she pulled away, the girl looked up at her mother in indignation. "Why should I? He's not my brother. I don't have a brother!"

My father's face darkened. I remembered that look. When I was a kid where I still had a dad, whenever he was pushed to the limits, this was his exact expression. After thirteen years some things never change. "Mia," his voice was low, dangerously so, "we talked about this before. Ruka is my son and that makes him your brother. I don't care if you think otherwise, but this is the truth. Now stop being such a petulant child and apologise to him. _Now_."

"I won't!"

Father's face was scarlet by then; he was fuming, his eyes bulging out from his sockets. He raised a hand, ready to send it across Mia's face when I stopped him by holding his extended arm firmly.

"Oh stop. Just stop it, alright? I don't know why you brought them here today, I assume it's because that you wanted us to be one big happy family, but just stop it. Don't hit your own daughter because of me, I'm not worth it, I can't bring myself to accept this form of—luxury. Not from people I don't give a shit about."

Father was staring at me wide-eyed, so were his other family members. I continued on prattling.

"You left us alone, you abandoned us. You abandoned mom, you abandoned me, and now you expect me to accept you as my dad again? You expect me to accept your family as my family as well? Just because of what? You paid for my college fees? Just because of that you expect me to do all this? I'm sorry, I can't do that.

"You know, I've spent my entire life hating you and so don't expect me to like you again. I'm not done hating you."

The second I ended my speech, his raised hand slapped me right across the face. Someone gasped. I couldn't stand still for a moment and I felt dizzy with pain, my cheek throbbed and I had to hold onto the walls for support. Towering above me, he pointed a finger at the door. "Get out."

I didn't need to be told twice. So holding on to my last shred of dignity, I walked out, hand over my bruised cheek. From that day onwards, I have not heard from him since. But for some reason, he did continue to financially support my studies till the moment I was able to officially become a vet.

"Ruka,"

"Yeah?"

Natsume runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "I wouldn't go and see him if I were you, because I know I might just punch the crap out of him. I'd love to tell you not to go meet him, but—"

I roll my eyes. "Isn't there always a 'but'?"

Natsume shoots me a glare for interrupting him before continuing, "—_but_, since I'm supposed to be your voice of reason, and as your voice of reason, I think you should go."

"Why?" I groan.

"Think of it this way, you haven't heard from him for seven years—that's _seven_ _fucking years_. He could've called you a day after, he could have called you a month after or even a year after but he didn't do that. He called you _seven years_ after. Don't you think that's odd?"

I think it over for a moment. "I guess…? I was just too surprised."

"So go see him," says Natsume, "figure what is it he wants then punch him in the face."

I narrow my eyes at him but Natsume plays innocent. "What? I'm just saying. One more thing, what's up with you and the devil?"

I look away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine, you don't have to tell me, but you better work things out with her. She might not show it but Mikan's worried sick. Didn't you notice we gave you two some alone time back there? Her idea."

For the first time ever, Natsume's not convincing me to break up with her. "You're actually telling me to make it up with Hotaru?"

But Natsume doesn't say anything further. Instead, he turns his back towards me. "Come on now, we should head back."

* * *

The Frenchwoman and the Japanese man did eventually meet again. In fact, it was that night, right after her performance. Tetsuya was hanging around the _Palais Garnier_, hoping for another chance in meeting with the woman who had been on his mind the entire day.

Tetsuya hadn't gone back to the hotel since the afternoon and he didn't plan on going back anytime soon. At least not until he has seen Lisette once more. As he waited outside the backstage entrance, his mind was filled with the ballerina's image. There was just something about her… In fact, he was so mesmerised that he managed to get himself a ticket for the show after begging dozens of people to sell him theirs. While the majority of them looked at him warily and hurried away, one man did sell Tetsuya his after realising that he had been stood up by his date.

Though Lisette was not the centre of attention in the production, Tetsuya couldn't keep his eyes off her throughout the two hours. Whenever she appeared on stage, Tetsuya couldn't help but stare.

He was startled when the doors swung open and a crowd of people appeared, obviously the dancers, for their stage makeup was still covering their faces. Standing on tiptoes, he scanned the crowd for the familiar face but felt his heart falling with each passing face that wasn't Lisette.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, there she was, looking at him curiously. The makeup definitely made her blue eyes stand out. She cocked her head to one side. "_Monsieur Tetsuya_?"

"_Rizetto-san_." His heart was fluttering at the sight of her.

Someone called out to her from the crowd; it was a man with a crew cut, taller than the rest. "Lis!"

Lisette replied, telling him not to wait for her. He eyed the Asian man warily, worried for her safety. Lisette was always the most innocent in the group, incredibly gullible. But Lisette kept waving him away and he didn't want to miss the metro, so with one last look, he decided to leave.

"What are you doing here?" Lisette turned back to Tetsuya and asked.

"I watch your performance," he replied and then gave her two thumbs up, "you were very good."

The compliment made her smile. "But I was not even Juliet."

"No, you no Jurietto," he waved both his hands before him then point a finger at Lisette. "You more beautiful."

Upon hearing this, Lisette could feel her cheeks growing red and she thanked the gods that her face was covered with an inch thick of foundation, so the blush wouldn't be visible. "_Merci_."

"I go back Japan tomorrow," Tetsuya began saying slowly, careful of his words, "can I write letter to you?" He reached into his pocket to retrieve a folded piece of paper then handed it to her. "Okay?"

At first, she was taken aback. Who wouldn't be? She barely even knew this man, only bumping into him twice in a day. Frankly, he was scaring her. But she had to admit that this Tetsuya guy was really good looking and she didn't think that he was any danger.

"Are you here on a trip?" She ignored him and changed the subject instead.

Tetsuya was a little disappointed but he tried his best to hide it, along with the note in his hand. "_Hai_, with five friends. We come travel in France. France very beautiful."

"_Oui_, it is in fact very beautiful. So how long have you been here?"

"Ah… A month? We travel the whole France."

"Really now? Where?"

"_Eto_…" He took a while to recollect his memories. "We go Bordeaux, Saint Tropez, Versailles, Provence, the Alps and Paris."

"Ah bon, Saint Tropez is very beautiful. I went there once when I was a child." Without realising it, Lisette was beginning to feel more comfortable, her shoulders felt less tensed and she was beginning to smile more. There was a very friendly aura surrounding him.

They talked for another twenty minutes before Tetsuya glanced at his watch and realised the time. "It's late. You should go home now." But in his heart he didn't want their conversation to end.

Lisette was disappointed. "Oh, OK. I should go too. Do you have a pen?"

While Tetsuya was searching for a pen in his pockets, Lisette rummaged through her bag then materialised a piece of facial tissue. She took the pen from his hands then carefully wrote her address onto it.

"_Voila_," she gave him the tissue then took the note from his hands. Giving him one last smile, Lisette waved. "_Adieu_, I hope to hear from you soon."

Tetsuya was beaming as he gave her a bow. "Good night, Rizetto-san."

Like that, the two parted ways, eagerly anticipating their next meeting.

* * *

The next day, I find myself sitting in a tea house. This is the place we had agreed to meet in. After going back home yesterday, I didn't think I could talk to him, so I sent him a text instead and not more than a minute later, he texted back an address.

Natsume was right. Perhaps it's time I stop avoiding my father and face him once more. There must be some important reason why he wanted to see me or wouldn't have called after seven years of absence. Yet I can't help but feel sick at the thought of meeting him once more, especially after what happened all those years ago.

At exactly one o' clock, the door slides open and a man steps into the room. His hair is greying and he looks much, much older than what I remembered, older than what I've expected. He comes in, and then the corners of his lips curve into a smile.

"Hello, Ruka. It's been a while."

I can't find my voice for a moment and so I don't reply. He takes a seat across the table then properly looks at me. "You've matured."

"I'm twenty-eight this year, so I guess that's inevitable." Father just smiles bitterly. He reaches over to pour himself a cup of tea from the teapot burning on the small stove. I tap the table impatiently. "I'll be honest with you, I didn't want to come here today; I still don't. But my friend made a point when he said that something must have happened for you to call me after seven years. So," I pause for effect, "what is it?"

He shrugs then sips his tea. "I just wanted to see you. How are you Ruka?"

It takes every wit of mine to stop myself from laughing. "What is this? You called me out here just to ask me how am I? After seven years, this is the reason why you want to meet with me? Really now?" I chuckle mirthlessly. "Well I'm fine, no thanks to you. If you'd excuse me," I begin to rise up from my seat, "I've more important things to do."

"I see you still haven't forgiven me, I understand. Then again, I don't think I've apologised. So, sorry Ruka. I'm sorry for what happened seven years ago." He bows his head down slightly. "Please, do sit."

"Your apology is late, seven years late. And I don't see why I should sit. So I'm leaving." I begin to rise from the floor once more.

"Can't a father meet with his son for tea? Is it a crime?" He looks at me, an edge in his voice. I can tell he's getting angry. "I just want to have tea with you. I just want to see how's my son doing all these years, is that too much to ask?"

"What do you think? You slapped me, chased me out of the restaurant, humiliated me, on my _21st birthday_, have you forgotten all that? You think a 'sorry' will suffice?" My voice grows louder with each word. "Father? Son? What is this? A reunion? After seven fucking years? And to answer your question, yes, that is too much to ask. Besides, the moment you left us twenty years ago, you have been dead to me. I have no father."

He slammed a hand against the table. The cups rattle. I watch as his fist tightens. "How can you say that?"

"How can I not? Where were you when Mama needed you the most? Where were you when I needed a father? You abandoned me, you abandoned mom. You left us for another woman; do you expect us to forgive you after all that? That year after you left, I listened as mom cried herself to sleep every single night. For a year, I didn't have a mom_ or_ a father. Though she slowly returned, things weren't the same anymore."

He looks away but his voice doesn't soften. "That is my fault, I can't deny it. But I told you before, I had no choice. Your grandfather was terribly sick back then and I had to return to Japan. I didn't want your mother to come with me because someone had to look after you. So I had no choice but to leave her back in France, with you. You think I made that decision easily? You think I didn't feel pain when I parted with you two?"

I glare at him but he continues. "But then things got worse after that. Your grandfather died shortly after my return and I thought about bringing the two of you back to Japan, but the family was outraged upon hearing that I've gotten married to your mom. My mother, your grandmother and your uncle would have nothing of it. Things got so complicated after that. I couldn't leave nor could I bring you both to Japan. If it wasn't for Keiko—"

"That's enough!" I roar. I heard this before, when he tried to explain everything to me during our first meeting when I first came to Japan. My reaction was far from pretty after hearing the full story. Of how Keiko was the one who was able to pacify his emotions and how he ended up falling for her and eventually marrying her. My stomach twists into knots just thinking about it.

"So what? Are you trying to tell me that your acts are _justifiable_? Is that it? Fuck this shit, I don't know why is it that you wanted to see me, but now I know that coming here was a grave mistake. I won't have any more of this shit. Don't _ever _call me again."

Father turns frantic when he hears that I'm about to leave. "Wait wait wait, wait Ruka. I'm sorry. This isn't how I want things to be, I'm sorry. Please, give me another chance."

"Do you think you deserve another chance? After what you did? To me? To Mama? No." My voice is hard as steel and so is my will to leave him. He can say all he wants and whatever he wants but I will have none of it. I won't stay. So I get up and head to the door.

"Ruka please listen—" Before he can continue his sentence, my father crumbles into a coughing fit. His hand clench around the front of his shirt, his frame shakes back and forth with every violent cough. Seeing his state, I have no choice but to turn back. I drop to my knees and place a hand on his back.

The coughs subside after a while and I hand him his tea. Father drinks greedily. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?"

He nods his head. "I'm fine," he replies in wheezes.

I don't believe him as I watch him struggle to breathe, let alone talk. He closes his eyes. Beads of sweat begin to roll down his forehead. "Don't lie to me. Come, I'll bring you to a doctor." I begin to help him up but he refuses.

"No, no. Don't. There's no need."

I feel myself flaring up again. "Why not? This may be serious. For once can you just stop being a fool and let me bring you to a hospital? As much as I don't like you, I don't want to see a fellow human die." Much less my own father.

"But I _am_ dying Ruka." His words surprise me and I stare at him.

"What?"

"I have cancer, Ruka." A bitter smile spreads over his lips. "And there is no cure."

Millions of questions run wild in my head. Thoughts flash past with the speed of light. It takes a while, but I gather myself and clear my throat. "Where?"

"Pancreas, then it spread to my lungs and liver."

"How long have you known?"

"Just yesterday."

"So this meeting, is that the reason?"

Father nods slowly then empties his cup. I reach out to the pot and pour him some more. "I don't have much time left, Ruka. And I don't want to go without seeing you again."

I stare at him blankly. This man, this man who is my father, this man who left me when I was eight, this man who I've grown to hate, has cancer. I'm surprised by how emotionally affected I am upon hearing the news. I let out a pent-up breath. "How long?"

"The doctor's given me six months. I'm not going for treatment, there's no point. I've been handed my death sentence." Tears begin to form at the edge of his eyes.

"Do they know? Keiko and Mia, have you told them?"

He sighs then places his attention onto a painting hung on the wall. "No, Ruka. I don't know how I'm going to break it to them. Especially Mia, she's doing her degree now. The last thing I want is to have her worry about me." He looks over at me and for the first time ever, I realise how hollow his face looks, and skin and bones and that layer of glass over his eyes. My father looks so frail. "I don't know what to do."

"You have to tell them."

He nods then closes his eyes. "I know." The two of us fall silent.

We stay like that for a while, quietly and I try to process everything that's happened. To be gone for seven years only to appear before me once again with the news of being diagnosed with cancer? This must be some kind of joke.

But seeing the way he coughed and how skeletal he's become tells me that this is no joke and he must be terribly sick.

"So what now?" My words come out in barely a whisper but he seems to hear me.

"I don't know, but," he looks up to me, "I'd like to start by fixing things between us."

"Okay."

"For everything that's happened before, I'm sorry Ruka. I am sorry. I really am."

For the first time ever, I believe him. I've always brushed his apologies aside, but not this time. As I look into his eyes, I believe him. I believe that when he says he's sorry, he truly means it.

I nod and take one step forward in the road to mending our relationship.

"I forgive you."

* * *

Tetsuya and Lisette stayed connected through ink and paper. Countless of letters were sent back and forth between the two and both of them would find themselves waiting eagerly by the mailbox. It lasted for only a year because Tetsuya Nogi returned to France after almost twelve months of exchanging letters with Lisette de La Fouchardière. He was no longer just attracted to the Frenchwoman he had bumped into a year ago at the Palais Garnier, Tetsuya knew that he was in love.

So when he stepped out from his plane after arriving from France, he was elated to see Lisette standing among the crowd, waiting for him with a card in his hand. His heart thumped wildly when he saw his name written in Kanji in her handwriting, a heart drawn beside it.

The next thing he knew, he dropped his bags and Lisette was in his arms as the two locked lips, madly in love with each other.

For the next eight years, Tetsuya lived happily with Lisette and they even had a son. Life for them was like a fairy tale, a big happily ever after. But then again, reality was never modelled after fairy tales. On the eight year, he received a phone call from his family back in Japan. His heart fell when he heard his brother telling him that his father was sick.

"The doctor says that he doesn't have much time left. Please come home, Tetsuya. Before Father leaves, please come home."

The words from his brother haunted him for the rest of the day. He couldn't put his mind off it and his mood was foul. Lisette of course noticed it and as the couple laid in bed that night, she asked him what was wrong.

"It's my father. He doesn't have long to live."

"Then you should go to Japan immediately." Her voice was firm as she caressed his face.

"But you and our son—" He began to worry. As much as he wanted to, he knew that he couldn't bring Lisette and their son over to Japan as well. His mother made it clear that his French wife was not welcome in the family.

"Don't worry, you should go to Japan. I'll take care of Luca."

A wave of gratitude washed up inside Tetsuya as he looked at his wife through the darkness. His hand found hers and he held on to it.

"Thank you, Lisette. For everything."

Three days later, Tetsuya stood at the doorway, ready to bid his family goodbye. His young son stood with his mother, a head of fair golden hair and his blue eyes sparkled with innocence. He was almost an exact replica of his mother and Tetsuya always thought that if his son was a girl instead, she would look exactly like Lisette.

He bent down to level his gaze with his eight-year-old son. "Luca, I'll be gone for a while there's something I need to do." He glanced at his wife then switched from French to Japanese. "Take good care of your Mama, got it? She needs you as much as you need her. Got it?"

"But Papa, you're coming back soon, right?"

Tetsuya's face broke into a smile and he pulled his son into his embrace. Words couldn't describe how precious the boy was to him.

"Of course I am, Ruka. I'll be back soon. I promise."

* * *

After my meeting with my father, I find my way to the Imai Tower. However, I'm barred from entering the gates that lead to the lobby. The security guard on duty refuses to let me through. Frustrated, I dial Hotaru's number but she won't pick up. Then I give a call to Mikan.

"Mikan? It's Ruka. Can you please tell Hotaru to let me in? I really need to talk to her."

"Are you two all right? I'm really worried. Hotaru was really upset yesterday. What did you _do_, Ruka?" Mikan sounds pissed off.

I pull at my hair in frustration. "That's why I'm here. I have a lot of things I need to explain to her but the security guard here won't let me in."

Mikan think it through for a moment but finally she agrees to help. However, I still have to wait for half an hour before Hotaru's butler comes down to bring me to her.

Hotaru's sitting on her couch with her hands crossed before her chest, her demeanour cold as ice and she train her eyes onto me.

"What?"

I begin to fidget under her merciless glare. "Can I sit?"

She continues to stare without saying a word before looking away with a sigh. I mutter thanks then take a seat across her. A maid appears with a tray of tea and biscuits. She sets out everything on the coffee table before taking her leave.

"Yesterday, I got a call, from my father." I begin with those words then continue to explain about everything, from how he left us all those years ago, to my 21st birthday, to our meeting this afternoon. Hotaru listened attentively, never once did she interrupt me while I spoke. Her gaze slowly softens as things start piecing together and understanding dawns onto her. We must have sat there for hours while I talk.

As I tell her the story of my father, I can feel myself getting lighter with each word utter. Besides Natsume, there is no one else I had told my story to. No one besides him knows about my father and all that had happened. No doubt I am happy to have someone I trust enough to tell the story. I'm glad that it's Hotaru.

But most of all, I'm guess just glad that there's someone else who cares enough to listen.

* * *

**There you have it. :D ****And if you have some time, do check out my new story, _Dreams of Ashes_. **

**Until next time. Ciao.**


	15. Quinze

**Beta-ed by my-silver-lining.**

* * *

quinze

* * *

"Okay. Bye Mama, I love you."

After hanging up on my mother, I take a deep breath then sigh. A bead of sweat slowly makes it way down my forehead and I hastily wipe it away with the back of my hand. It was absolutely horrible to lie to my mother about my father and also to keep both my meeting with him_ and_ his current condition from her. Telling her just doesn't seem right—but neither does lying and covering up.

With lingering uncertainty, I pick up the phone once more then dial a number without much thinking. The line rings for a second or two before being picked up.

"Hello?"

I can't help but smile upon hearing the voice. "Hey, Hotaru."

"Ruka." There's the sound of a book shutting and also the television in the background being turned off. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is just stellar," I groan. "I just got off the phone with my mom."

The line goes silent. "So, what did you two talk about?"

I get up from the sofa, shuffling towards a bookshelf and absently picking up a framed photo. It is a photo of Hotaru and I, the two of us sitting on the couch in my apartment, dressed to the nines, all worn out after attending one of those charity balls rich people like so much. That night, Hotaru had spent a night at my place since my apartment was closer to the ball venue and when we came home, it was already three in the morning. In fact, we were so worn out that the two of us just passed out on the couch.

Though not before snapping a photo.

I ran a thumb over Hotaru's small smile. "A weekly report, except for the part about my father."

"You still don't want to tell her?"

I sigh for the umpteenth time and scratch at my head. "I don't know, Hotaru. It's unfair to just spring this on her. She barely heard anything about my father for so long and to have the first news to be about him having cancer, it's—not fair."

I place the photo back onto the shelf. "You have to tell her someday." She says.

"I know," I shuffle back to the couch and just allow my knees to buckle, sending my body collapsing onto it. I can feel my eyelids getting heavier by the second. "Just—maybe not now."

"So you're having dinner with your father tomorrow?"

"Yes," I grumble unhappily. I've been dreading this dinner for almost a week now. Looking back at past records, dinners have never turned out well for us. _Never_. And there's no reason to believe that tomorrow's will be any different. "Sorry for not being able to be with you tomorrow."

"It's fine."

I close my eyes and sigh once more. "I'm doing the right thing, right?" I'm so tired.

Just before I lose consciousness to sleep, I hear Hotaru's reply.

"I don't know," she says, "are you?"

I wish I knew. If only I knew.

* * *

Dinner with my father is best described as an awkward affair. A _really _awkward affair, as the two of us sit at the table like two complete strangers meeting for the very first time.

On the bright side, this is most definitely the longest time the two of us have sat down for dinner without things getting ugly.

Few words are exchanged between us. Even if they are, it's either about the food, the restaurant, or worse—

The weather.

"It's been pretty warm these days, no?" Father comments while gathering some rice into his spoon.

I shrug noncommittally. "I guess."

"It's only April, summer shouldn't be here so early, right?"

"I guess."

Around the fourth question, Father seems to have gotten the idea that I'm not in the mood for a weather chat so with a clear of his throat, he turns his attention back to his meal.

The silence becomes a little suffocating till my father reaches into his pocket. "Ruka," he begins then pulls out two tickets and slides one of them across the table to me. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me to watch some football tomorrow."

I can't help but raise an eyebrow at his invitation. Seeing my reaction, his smile stiffens. "W-well, I remember that you like football when you were young. And well, I've always wanted to go to a live football game with someone, but well," Father laughs nervously, "ahh, Keiko hates crowds and Mia's not quite a fan of football. They'd never want to come with me."

I chew on the inside of my cheeks, tempted to reject his invitation. It's obvious that he's trying hard to mend the relationship between us but it just doesn't feel right.

But then I remember his current situation and my resolve is instantly shaken. I can't possibly say no to him, not now.

So when he reaches out to retrieve the ticket, I say, "Okay, I'll go."

The way Father's face lights up upon hearing my words is just priceless. I smile and pick up the ticket from the table. Father doesn't stop smiling, even when he continues with his meal. He glances up at me. I smile back.

* * *

I'm surprised. In fact, I am pleasantly surprised. As my father and I walk out from the stadium after an exciting match of football, I'm feeling pretty good.

And other than when we were still a happy family, there was never a time spent with my father that I actually enjoyed. Except for today.

I take a sip from my soda, watching Father beside me, talking animatedly about the game. "Ahh… Really now, how could that guy miss? The goal was right there! _Right there!_"

"Exactly!" I join in, "even Kuroda played better than him, and he just recovered from a torn ligament."

Father shakes his head dejectedly. "We could've won, Ruka."

"Well, it was a good game, nonetheless. Don't be so disappointed," seeing Father's pursed lips, I reach an arm around his shoulders. "Perhaps next time, next time we'll definitely win!"

Father looks at me strangely and a corner of his lips curves up. It isn't a happy smile though, more like wistful. "Perhaps next time."

Confused at first, it takes me a while to understand the meaning behind that smile and as realisation hits me, I feel like I've been punched in the stomach.

There might not be a next time for him.

I clear my throat. "So," I begin with uncertainty, "how—do you feel?"

Father looks over to me then nods. "I'm all right, Ruka. Never better." He pats me on my shoulder. "Thanks for asking."

"Do—Keiko and Mia know about your condition?"

"No," Father replies with a shake of his head. "I just—Ruka, I—I don't know how to tell them. 'I have cancer', 'I only have six months to live', 'I'm sick'… Ruka, I don't know how I should even _begin_ to tell them."

We come to a stop before an empty bench and sit down. Father slumps in his seat, staring at the drink in his hand. I lean forward while taking another sip of soda, "They have to know about it, you know this right?"

"I just can't bring myself to tell them, Ruka. I can't. Do you how many times I've tried? Every time one of them asks if there's something wrong, the words are already on the tip of my tongue but I just can't muster enough courage to tell them." He looks at the people around us. "I know you think that I'm a coward, I think so too."

He's not a coward. He's just human. I relate his dilemma with mine. "I don't know if I should tell Mama."

Father turns to look at me, completely taken by surprised at the mention of Mama. Never had she appeared in our conversations; he never asked, I never felt like talking about her. "I was on the phone with her last night and throughout our entire phone conversation, I didn't know what to do. A part of me wanted to tell her about you, your condition and everything but the other part said no. Mama has been living her life without the slightest news about you, if I told her—it just doesn't seem right. You hurt her once; I'm not letting that happen the second time."

I wait for his reply, but Father grimaces and pats my back. "I wish I had the chance to know you better." the soft look in his eyes surprises me. "You're a good son."

I grin. "There's still a chance you know."

He lets out a shaky laugh. "Like the football match, there might not be another next time for me."

Something stirs inside me. "There will, Father, trust me." I don't know if he does but Father just waves it away. He gets up from the bench with me following behind him. When he turns back to me, his previous brooding expression is gone only to be replaced with something a little more cheery. Father places an arm around my shoulder, though it's proven to be a little difficult since I'm at least a head taller than him.

"Tell me this son," I immediately become wary of his tone and that funny-looking grin on his face. "This girlfriend of yours I've been reading about in the papers, Hotaru Imai, is it?"

I cough. "Ahem, y-yeah?"

He furrows his eyebrows, pretending to be in deep thought. "Well, you see, I don't think there's a soul in Japan who has never head of the name Imai. Billion-dollar company and all that, plus it is said Hotaru Imai isn't someone you should mess with. Is she really as cold and calculative as they say?"

I scratch the back of my head nervously. "Well, she can be rather intimidating if you don't know her that well, but she has a good heart."

With the funny-looking grin still in place, Father nudges me gently in the ribs. "So tell me, son, how did you two get together?"

I'm beginning to sweat. "It's a long story," I reply, "maybe I'll tell you some other day over a nice cup of coffee."

Father narrows his eyes at me. "Why not now?" He whines.

"Told you, long story. Takes some time to tell."

"Well, what about fishing? You and I, some father-son bonding time and you can tell me then, right?"

I just look at him. "I don't know how to fish."

"I can teach you! It's not that hard once you get the hang of it." He fishes out his phone to check the date. "Hmm, next week, what do you say?"

"But really don't know how to fish!"

"Trust your father, it's really simple."

"Father, seriously—"

"Trust me, Ruka. It's _easy._"

And the two of us walk towards the car park, hands around shoulders, bickering over trivial things, finally for once, looking like a true father-son duo.

* * *

"Hotaru?" I holler while peeking into her walk-in closet for said woman, but she's nowhere in sight. "Hotaru?"

Hotaru Imai appears a second later, not from the closet but behind me. I jump when I feel her hand patting gently against my back. Whirling around, I see her standing there, a phone glued to her ear. With her brows furrowed, she raises a finger to her lips. "I'm afraid I can't accept your current offer, Mr Souma."

I point towards my neck then mouth the words, "Necktie?" Hotaru scowls then gestures towards the chair; a dark teal tie sits innocently on the backrest of it. My face reddens immediately. Must've missed it.

Hotaru rolls her eyes once more before stepping into her wardrobe. I walk over to the chair and pick up the tie before proceeding to wrap it around my neck. When I'm all done, Hotaru walks out, still on the phone, a strand of pearls in her hand. She hands it over to me.

"Absolutely not. That is unacceptable."

I take the necklace from her hand then fasten it around her neck. Hotaru reaches over to peck me lightly on the cheek.

"Ready?" I ask her and Hotaru nods. Taking her hand in mine, the two of us walk out from her room. As we passed by Yamamoto in the living room, he greets us with a bow.

"I wish you both a good time."

"Thanks."

It isn't until we're in the car and halfway to our destination does Hotaru hangs up on her call with a huff. She closes her eyes to take a rest.

"Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," she replies grumpily. Eyes on the road, I reach out for her hand and wrap my fingers around hers.

"Smile a little," I comment lightly, "my father's been begging to meet his 'future daughter-in-law' for two months now, so don't disappoint him with that depressing face."

Hotaru parts her lips, ready to say something but then closes it. "I just—I just don't—" Finally she decides not to speak all together, closes her eyes and breathes out steadily.

I kiss the back of her hand gently. "Relax. Everything will work out in the end and look," I turn a corner before setting the car into park, "we're here already."

A valet rushes over to open our doors and I hand over my keys to him along with a generous tip. As the car is being driven away, I walk over to Hotaru and link my arm with hers.

"Tonight will be a good night." I announce. My heart's feeling inexplicably light as the two of us step into the luscious interior of Johanne's, with its velvet red carpet, dim lighting and the faint smell of wood. A maître d walks up towards us.

"Welcome to Johanne's, do you have a reservation?"

"Ah, yes, of course." I reach into my pocket to pull out my identification and a piece of paper with the reservation number scrawled on it. The maître d accepts it then goes to check at a podium. When he comes back, he bends his body forwards slightly then gestures for us to follow him.

"This way, please." And so we trail behind him as he brings us to our table.

"You know that this place isn't cheap right?" Hotaru whispers into my ear with a raised eyebrow.

I just shrug, nonchalant. "I know."

A arrive at a table set for three situated in a cosy alcove. Two waiters hurry over to pull our chairs out so Hotaru and I take our seat. Once the two of us are alone, I reach for my phone and call Father. Oddly, it goes to voicemail after a while. So I try for another two times before someone finally picks up on the third time.

"Hey Father, Hotaru and I are here already. Where are you?"

But the line stays silent and I feel my back stiffening. Something doesn't feel right. "Father..?"

"I-is this—Ruka?" The voice belongs to a female and I can already feel myself getting more worried by the second. Something is not right. Something is _definitely _not right.

"Who are you?"

The person on the other line sniffles. "I'm Mia. You probably remember me."

"Yes."

"Well," there is a pause, "is there a reason you're looking for my father?"

"He's my father too," I snap, "where is he?"

There's a short pause before she replies. "It doesn't concern you."

It takes almost every nerve to hold back the urge to shout at the phone. I close my eyes, calming myself down. Something inside me tells me that it has something to do with my father's health. I take a deep breath. "St. Marcus, that's where he is, right?" I rise up from my seat. Hotaru looks at me confused but she does the same as well.

"How did you—"

I hang up just before she has the chance to finish her sentence, one foot already out of the restaurant's entrance.

* * *

After being stuck in traffic for an hour, Hotaru and I finally find ourselves at St. Marcus Hospital. A quick enquiry at the counter brings us down a hallway and for the first time in seven years, for the second time in my life, my eyes land on my own half-sister.

She has definitely changed a lot in the past seven years, her face is sharper, her hair is longer and she is much taller than what I remember. But there is no doubt she's Mia as her face looks almost exactly like our father's. She walks back and forth with her hands tucked under her armpits, Keiko on the other hand, just sits on one of the chairs with her eyes closed, hands clutched together as if she's saying a silent prayer.

I move towards them and the sound of my heels alert them of my presence. Both of them whip their heads towards me and Mia's jaw drops.

When she's within earshot, I ask, "How is he?"

"Why the hell are you here? You have no business here and neither are you welcome." I tighten my grip on Hotaru's fingers but I bite back my tongue.

But for some reason, Keiko comes to my rescue. With her eyes still closed, she utters, "Mia, do not be disrespectful."

Mia turns to her mother, surprised. Her head darts back and forth from me to her mother then back, before settling a glare on me. I return with an equally hard gaze. Finally, she breaks the contact and walks away. No doubt she's fuming inside.

Keiko gets up from her seat then shuffles towards me before bending her waist down; first at me, then at Hotaru. "It is nice to meet you, Miss Imai."

Hotaru returns the greeting with an inclination of her head. Once all pleasantries have been exchanged, I lean in towards Keiko. "How is he?"

But instead of replying my question, she looks at me pointedly. "You know don't you? About his condition."

No doubt by 'condition' she means Father's cancer. I nod and her eyes shut tight in pain. Keiko walks back to her seat, sinks into it then begins to cry. Mia is by her side in seconds, wrapping her arms around her mother's frame.

"I was so stupid. I was so stupid. I was so, _so_ stupid."

"What happened exactly?" My mind is flooded with questions and I feel like my brain is ready to burst any second now.

No one would answer for a moment before Mia finally spoke through gritted teeth, "Dad was already in pain this morning, but when we suggested bringing him to the hospital, he refused and said that everything will be fine after taking some paracetamol. But things got worse and he collapsed in our home this evening. We called an ambulance and had him sent here. It was only a while ago did we find out." She presses her lips together. "His condition has worsened."

I close my eyes to the information. No no no no no. He sounded fine on the phone this morning. Was he already in pain back then? My fists clench. I feel Hotaru's hand on my shoulder as she attempts to calm me down.

"How is he _now_?"

"Unconscious."

Everything goes quiet except for Keiko and Mia's cries and Hotaru's gentle shushes. Tonight… It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Ruka," Hotaru says softly, "I will go find us something to eat."

I can't imagine myself being alone in the same place as Keiko and Mia so instead of letting her go on her own, I decide to follow Hotaru.

We soon find ourselves a place to sit in a café at the ground floor of the hospital. As Hotaru munches quietly on her bagel, I just stare into my coffee, thoughts in a complete disorder.

"Ruka, you have to eat." She unwraps another bagel then shoves it towards me. I accept it and take a bite out of it, chewing as slow as possible, trying to find the strength to swallow it.

"I know this is a stupid question but," she reaches out to hold onto my hand, "are you all right?"

I just shake my head. "I don't know. Should I be all right?"

If you were to ask me a year ago how I would feel if my father had cancer and would die soon, the most probable reaction would be a snarl. I would tell you I can't be bothered with him, dead or alive. I would tell you that Tetsuya Nogi is not someone I'd concern myself with.

But things are different now. Father has indeed wronged both Mama and me; I did hate him for it. But the last two months have made me look at things from a different perspective. He told me that he regretted what he did and though I didn't believe him at first, I soon came to accept that as the truth and I now trust that he's sincere when those words were uttered. He meant what he was saying. Even for his actions seven years ago, he's sorry and I forgive him.

Because at the end of the day, he _is_ my father.

Our earlier outings were always overshadowed by his condition, it lingered in the back of mind when we were having lunch, when we were on our fishing trip and whenever I think of my father, the C-word doesn't stray far. But I tried my best to ignore it, to push it away until at some point, the idea of him being sick seemed far-fetched. Because how can a man who is able to jump and laugh and run be someone who's diagnosed with cancer? At one point, the idea that Father has cancer seems just a lie that had found its way to settle in the deep recesses of my brain.

Only now, with him being in pain and hospitalised for it, does the gravity of the situation hit me hard across the face, leaving a red, angry mark across my cheek.

My father isn't well, that's why he sought me out the first place.

My father is sick.

He has cancer.

He's _dying._

Something in my brain clicks and I'm finally faced with the truth. I don't _want_ to lose him so soon. Our reconciliation has been so short, so pitifully short. It isn't fair if he is to leave again.

I blink back tears from my eyes. Hotaru notices this and tightens her hold around my fingers while I look up at her, staring at me, more worried than ever. I realise that at this moment, she's the only piece of rock I can hold on to. From somewhere deep inside me, a sudden rush of emotions washes over me, almost knocking my breath away.

"I love you."

Hotaru nods. "I know."

"I love you."

"I know."

I look at her, pleading. "Please stay."

Hotaru smiles reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere."

And I let the tears fall.


	16. Seize

**Unbetaed, so do forgive the mistakes found.**

* * *

seize

* * *

After almost two hours of sitting at the café doing close to nothing, with my wits gathered and my emotions pacified, Hotaru and I head back. When we push open the door leading into my father's room, a huge wave of relief washes over me when I see him wide awake, both Mia and Keiko sitting by his side.

Father turns towards the two of us when he notices our arrival and smiles wearily. "Ruka," his eyes then travel to Hotaru who is standing beside me, "ah, and you must be Ruka's girlfriend. He has talked about you quite a lot. I'm sorry we have to meet like this, my body's getting useless. But nonetheless, it's nice meeting you."

Hotaru bends her body forward in a courteous manner. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Nogi. I hope you're feeling better."

"I feel better than this morning, that's for sure. But I've certainly been better." He laughs but no one joins in. Mia looks away and for the first time since Hotaru and I came in, he seems to remember their presence. Father clears his throat then places a hand over Keiko's. "Keiko-chan, would you mind giving us a moment?"

I can tell that Keiko is reluctant to leave him with me, her shoulders stiffen at his request. Even Mia looks over to her father then to me, indignation burning in her eyes. Finally, Keiko nods and gets up from the chair. Her legs are so weak that she has to hold on to her daughter's arm for support as they shuffle out the door.

Father raises a hand and gestures us towards his bed. I move forwards and sit on the chair by his bed, the one that was occupied by Keiko just moments before. The seat is still warm but I'm too distracted to be bothered by it. Hotaru pulls another chair over and sits beside me.

"Father, are you all right?"

He exhales heavily. "I'm fine, Ruka. There's nothing to worry about."

Something inside me snaps and I raise my voice. "Nothing to worry about? Are you serious? I called your phone only to be told that you had fainted, that you were in so much pain. And then I'm told that your condition has worsened. Nothing to worry about? Really?"

Hotaru reaches out to pat me gently on the back. I sink back into the chair and take a deep breath as the guilt from the outburst creeps up on me. "Sorry."

Father shakes his head. "There's no need. I'm sorry for worrying you. But it's nice to see that you care about me this much." The smile on his face is enough to send a dull ache to my heart. Oh god. I know that I haven't been the best of sons, but that surely packed a punch.

"Hotaru," he turns his attention to the person beside me, "I've seen quite a lot of you in the newspapers and magazines, but you are certainly prettier up close."

"Thank you."

"And you don't seem like the cold, heartless Ice Queen they've made you out to be. You're too pretty to be what they say you are." Father purses his lips and I can't help but roll my eyes. "Ever thought about suing them for defamation?"

Hotaru chuckles. "There is no such need, Mr Nogi, for they're not too far from the truth."

Father laughs loudly at her reply and even my cheeks begin twitch. But the air around us grows serious when his laughter dissolves into a coughing fit. I pick up a glass of water from the bedside table and feed it to his lips. Father slowly takes a few sips and exhales. It's clear that every single movement is just so taxing on his deteriorating health. I lean over to adjust his pillow and push him into a lying position before pulling the covers over his frail frame. "You should rest, Father."

Suddenly, he reaches out a hand to grip on my wrist tightly. I turn to him to meet with his tired eyes, but there was a layer of determination over them. "Ruka, can I ask you a favour?"

"What is it?"

"Do you think—" he pauses, "do you think I can go to France?"

My eyes widen upon hearing his request. "I know, I know you don't want me to see your mother. I know of the pain I've dealt her. But at least, if I could just spend one day with her, one final day with her, then perhaps I can rest in peace." His words grow softer and a single tear rolls down his cheeks.

I blink back tears from my eyes. "Don't say that, Father."

But his eyes are already closed and his grip had loosened. Yet as his head lolls to a side, the words never leave his lips. "Please, Ruka. Please. Please. Please."

I close my eyes, it's too painful. Without a second thought, I turn and hurry out from the room. The tears fall when I'm safe outside. I'm bent over, breath escaping in heaves. I feel Hotaru's familiar hand on my back.

It takes a while but the waves of emotions soon subside and I hastily rub the tears away with the heel of my palm. Hotaru passes a tissue to me. I accept it with a mutter of thanks.

"Let's go home now, Ruka," she places a comforting hand on my arm, "come now."

But as we prepare to leave, we see Keiko and Mia standing there, staring at us with bloodshot eyes. When Keiko tears her gaze away, she turns to her daughter to whisper into her ears and I watch as Mia shuffles into Father's room. Keiko returns her blank stare to me.

"A word, please?"

If I wasn't not already mentally exhausted from the previous ordeal, I would've arched an eyebrow at her request. As much as I want to turn her down, I sigh and decide against it. I look to Hotaru. "You go first, all right? Call your driver, I'll go home myself.

Uncertainty flashes past her eyes for a quick second, but eventually she shoulders her bag and leaves without another word. I watch as she walks away, her hair bobbing with each confident step she takes. I bite back a smile that threatens to form on my lips. When she's gone, I turn my attention back to Keiko who still has her eyes firmly set upon me.

"Well," I clear my throat, ready to get down to business, "perhaps we should do this over a cup of coffee?" Keiko merely nods and turns on her heels.

* * *

And so I find myself sitting in the hospital's café once more, my second cup of coffee in two hours sits innocently on the table. But this time, instead of Hotaru's comforting presence, I get an intimidating Keiko in exchange for a companion.

"Has Tetsuya told you about his wish?"

I nod. "He has."

I study Keiko as she shuts her eye after choking out a whimper. She slams both her fists onto the table, the cups and saucers rattle upon contact. She murmurs something incomprehensible under her breath.

"'scuse me?"

"I don't want him to go." This time her voice is louder, so loud in fact that a few people nearby have turned their heads over to us. Then her voice returns to a softer tone. "I don't want him to go."

"Well honestly—" She holds up a palm, cutting me off midsentence.

"Tetsuya," she takes in a deep breath before continuing, "Tetsuya and I—we go back a long time, before he met your mother, since we were kids. We were both in the same elementary school, that's how we got to know each other. But we were friends back then and we stayed that way for a long time. But I guess I was always smitten with him. Then again, almost every girl who has met him would fall for him.

"Then a few years after high school, Tetsu and I lost contact. We went our separate ways. It wasn't until years later when I bumped into him again. At that time, his father had just passed away and Tetsu was beyond consolable, though back then I just thought it was because of his father when that wasn't why he was so depressed, when the fact was that wasn't the main reason. After that one meeting, Tetsu and I often went out, he confided his problems to me and it was only then I knew that he was married and had a kid in France."

Keiko snapped her eyes shut as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Tetsu—Tetsu never stopped loving your mother, Ruka. I just want you to know that. If it wasn't because of his brother and his mother, Tetsu wouldn't have hesitated a single second to return to France, even if I was pregnant with Mia, he would still return."

It's a revelation that surprises me and thus I lift my eyebrows at her words. But she already knows what I'm about to ask before the words form themselves. "Yes, I was pregnant with Mia before he went back to France, and it was because of that he received so much pressure from his family, until at one point he couldn't take it anymore and we got married. It was the politically correct thing to do. And it kept his family off his back.

"I know what you're thinking and sometimes I have to admit it, I'm a harlot. I knew that he was a married man yet I couldn't help myself. I knew that he loved your mother more than anything, but I could only think of myself. Until this day, I still can't forgive myself for it. I'm so sorry." Keiko bends her head, choosing to look at her fingers instead of meeting my gaze. "He really did love her. He does until now."

She sniffles and dabs the tears away from her eyes. "I really, _really_ don't want Tetsuya to go back to France. I'm so scared that once he does, he might not come back. I know it's selfish, but I can't let him go."

I shrug. "He's a grown man, I'm sure you know that. So if he wants to go to France, there's nothing I can do to stop him."

Then Keiko does the unexpected, she throws up her hands. "I _don't want_ you to stop him, that's the thing. Ruka, I know you might think that I'm the evil woman who ruined your family, and frankly that isn't too far from the truth. But I have a_ conscience_, Ruka, you may or may not believe it. I don't feel good about what I've done to your mother, I really don't. But I'm human, I'm a woman and I love Tetsuya with all my heart. But I can't stop him if he wants to go to France. It's just—it's—it's _not fair_."

And then Keiko completely breaks down in front of me, exploding in a mess of tears with heart-wrenching wails in between. I look away, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Only when her cries die away, replaced by pitiful whimpers do I return my attention to her. I slide some tissue across the table to her. "So you _want_ him to go to France, is that correct?"

It is at this point I realise how fragile and weary she seems. It's almost as if Keiko's the one with cancer, not my father who's lying in a hospital bed. Her cheeks appear to be sunken and her dress hangs on her like a blanket. Her eyelids seem to threaten to fall any moment now. She curls her bony fingers around her cup. "I don't want him to go, but I must."

"So is that all? What you want to talk to me about?"

Keiko shakes her head. "No, that's not all." Then she leans forward over the table. "I never got the chance to tell you this, but I _never_ disliked you, Ruka. I always wanted to get the chance to know you. You might have already antagonised me because our last meeting didn't turn out too well, did it?" She fakes a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but it only succeeds in annoying me. Having notice the reaction on my face, the already-stiff smile stiffens some more. "But I really—I really wanted to get to know you. We just didn't have the chance."

And so a veil of silence settles between us, Keiko sets her gaze on someplace else and when I follow her line of sight, I see an old couple sitting outside the café in the waiting area, tightly wrapping their fingers together. How nice would it be to have someone to grow old with. Keiko seems to have the same thoughts as well for her eyes begin to well up with tears once more and she quickly wipes the tears away.

"Sometimes," she says, her eyes still looking at the couple, "I really wish that I had not fallen in love with him."

I guess it is at this point where I stopped looking at Keiko in such an unfriendly light, but instead acknowledging that she is just another person who was no match against a silly little thing called love.

* * *

The first thing I do when I'm back at home is take a cold shower, giving myself some quiet time to think. When I step out from the bathroom, the clock shows that is almost one in the morning. I pick up my phone and dial Hotaru's number but just as my finger hovers over the 'call' button, I hesitate. Should I call her at this hour? When she's probably asleep? There are a few things that will surely send her into rage mode—I had to find out most of them through the hard way—the first is when you mess with her money, the second is when you mess with her food and the third is when you mess with her sleep. That's basically the secret recipe to having a perfectly sane and happy Hotaru Imai. And when you mess with the things that make her sane and happy, you'll be heading towards hell.

But I digress.

After much deliberation, I delete the number and typed in another one. I brace myself, taking in a deep breath and press call. The line rings before being picked up.

"Hello, mama," I steel myself, preparing myself to utter those four words no one ever wants to hear for nothing good ever follows it.

"We need to talk."

* * *

"Call me when you've arrived, okay?"

I nod and pull Hotaru into a tight embrace, kissing her forehead in the process. "I will." It pains me a little to know that it will be two weeks before I can feel her arms around me again. When we pull apart, Hotaru reaches out to cup her hand around my cheek.

"Take good care of yourself, Nogi. Come back in one piece." I smile and so does Hotaru.

"You too, Imai. Don't work too hard when you're in Berlin." I lean over to kiss her on the cheek and adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Bye."

Hotaru simply waves. I turn to Father who's standing right next to me. It's been two weeks since he was discharged from the hospital and he looks better than when he did lying in the hospital bed, but at the same time he seems more tired than ever, almost corpselike but the grin never leaves his face and the spark of life still resides in his eyes. "Come on, let's go."

The two of us check ourselves in and soon, we're on board the plane. Although usually, I'd like nothing more than to take the window seat, but Father turned to me before we took our seats.

"Can I—can I sit by the windows, Ruka? I want to remember how the sky looks before—" I hastily agree to it before he can finish his sentence. And so I find myself sitting between my father and another woman who spends her time writing on a notepad throughout the twelve-hour flight.

It's not exactly easy to pass time when you're sitting in an aeroplane, and things do not get any better when your flight happens to be half a day long. Father and I rarely speak because if he's not watching the skies intently, he's sleeping soundly. Perhaps it's his cancer, because he can sleep for six hours straight, and I often find myself fearing that his closed eyes won't ever open again.

And while Father is more than capable of dozing off in flight, I can't even catch a wink of sleep. There's something about flying and sleeping that will never go well together for me. If I'm flying, I can't sleep; if I'm sleeping, I'm definitely not flying. Since I manage to finish a short novel in the first five hours of the flight, I find myself watching _Fight Club_ for the umpteenth time just to make things bearable.

You cannot imagine the relief I feel when the plane touches land—and also when Father wakes up from his sleep. So after retrieving our luggage, I scan my surroundings to find my mother standing among the crowd. She waves at us when our eyes meet. I look over to father who doesn't have a single shred of expression on his face.

The first thing I do when we're close enough is wrap my arms around my mother's frame, taking in that familiar scent of my childhood. "Mama, I'm home."

"God, I've missed you, my son." We stay like that for a minute or so before reluctantly pulling away. I take a step back and watch as my parents meet each other for the very first time in almost twenty years. Both of them are standing a few feet apart, yet the only thing they do is stare into each other's eyes, neither of them willing to make the first move.

In the end, Father clears his throat and extends a stiff arm towards Mama. "Hello, Lisette. It's been a while." It's probably been two decades but yet Father still manages to speak in eloquent French. His lips curve into a smile.

Mama stares for a while longer before a hand flew up to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. Instead of just accepting his outstretched hand, Mama walks over to close the distance between them then circles her arms around his neck. "It's been so long, too, too long. It's nice seeing you again, Tetsuya."

Father closes his eyes and buries his face into the space between her neck and her shoulder. "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

I release the breath that I didn't realise I was holding, thankful that things are turning out better than expected.

* * *

It didn't take Father long before settling into our home, the same home he lived in all those years ago. Since I often come back to France during the holidays, I barely recognise anything that's different but Father has been gone so long, so when he took his first step through the front door when we arrived home, he could only stare at the living room in wonder.

"Twenty years," he said, "it's been too long."

And for the next day or so, Mama and I have to endure him marvelling at random objects around the house and explaining in detail the back-story of some more significant ones.

"That wasn't here before." He would point at something and say, even though I've seen it for at least five years.

Days were usually spent sitting in the house, as both my parents reminisced about the past together and filling in twenty years' worth of memories. I had expected things to be awkward between the two, with both tensions and emotions running high, so it was certainly a relief to see them talking amicably with each other, joking and laughing like two old friends who have been reunited after a very long time.

They say that good times pass fast and before we knew it, there's only a few days left to our France escapade. Mama and Father have already begun to miss each other's companies. It's evident in the looks they give each other when the occasional silence settles between them. It's actually a sad sight to see, considering the fact that this may be the very last time they will see each other.

On the evening of our second to last day of our trip, the doorbell rings. I look over to Mama and she looks back at me innocently. "Are we expecting someone?" I ask but the expression on her face tells me that she's just as surprised.

"Go get the door then, your mother and I will wash up." Father begins to pile the plates from dinner into a stack before moving them to the sink.

I wipe my hands on a tablecloth then move towards the front door, all the while wondering who it might be at this hour.

So imagine my surprise when I pull the door open to find Hotaru Imai standing at the steps of my house. All the way here in France when she's supposed to be attending a meeting in Germany instead.

A tiny smirk appears on her lips.

"Surprise."


	17. Dixsept

dix-sept

* * *

Without a second thought, I pull Hotaru into a tight embrace, taking in her scent. As the familiar smell of tea and lavender tickles my senses, I can't help the grin that forms on my lips. God I missed this so much. "Shouldn't you be in Germany?" I mutter into her grey cardigan and wrap my arms tighter around her waist.

"The meeting ended earlier than expected. So I decided to come here." I feel her hand running up my back. "I missed you," she adds in a whisper.

I press a kiss onto her lips then one at her temple before pulling away. With our hands still held together, I pull Hotaru into the warmth of my house and help her with her luggage. Mama appears from the kitchen and her eyes widen into discs when they fall on the girl beside me.

I grin and look over to Hotaru. "Seems like we have a guest, Mama."

Mama hurries over, arms outstretched and I can feel Hotaru's muscles stiffen when she's ambushed by my mother's hug and kisses on her cheeks. Only when I run my thumb over the back of her hand does she begin to relax herself. "It's nice to see you again, Hotaru. How did you find this place?"

Hotaru just smiles. "Ruka told me the address." I certainly did not; Hotaru probably hacked into some database and found out. Then again, I'm too happy to bother.

Father joins us moments later and his face lights up when he sees who's our special guest. "Hotaru! Aren't you supposed to be in Germany?"

"Yes, Mr. Nogi. However, the meeting ended a few days earlier than planned, so I thought I'd drop by.

Father frowns and purses his lips. "Well, you should have told us so we could've picked you up from the airport. Was the flight all right?"

"It's was fine and if I had called, it would've ruined the surprise." I don't miss the sly smirk that passes her face for a quick second.

"Fair point," Father replies.

"Well, are you hungry, Hotaru? We just finished dinner but we still have some leftovers, if you don't mind." Mama asks.

Hotaru nods. "That would be lovely, Lisette. Actually, I'm quite hungry."

Then with a final grin, Mama disappears into the kitchen, dragging Father along with her. Hotaru stands in the middle of the room, takes a look around the living room, taking in everything. Hotaru walks to a low table fitted snugly into an alcove in the room, the walls around it covered by frames of photos that served as a time line of our (mainly Mama's and my) life through the years. She reaches out to touch a photo of a five-year-old me, laughing as I sat on a bike.

"You have a very nice house." She comments when she tears her eyes away from the wall.

"Thank you," I reply and I reach out to curl a strand of her hair around my finger."How was the meeting?" I pull Hotaru towards the couch and the two of us sink into it.

Hotaru blows out a sigh then shuts her eyes. "It was fine." And so we stay like that, Hotaru with her eyes closed and I sitting beside her, observing and memorizing the details of her face like the curve of her nose. It's at this point that I realise how much I really missed her.

"Tired?" Hotaru nods mechanically with her eyes still shut. I watch as the rise and fall of her chest slows and before I know it, her head lolls to the side. Trying my best not to wake her up, I tilt her head over to me so that it rests on my shoulder. Hotaru doesn't even stir.

And as she sleeps, something clicks in my brain. Sleeping arrangements. Mama and I live in a small house with two bedrooms, one for her, the other for me. Rarely do we have guests staying over our place and even if they did, they would take my room when I'm not around or I'll share a room with my mother instead so my room can be used to the accommodate guests.

During our stay in France, Father has been sleeping in my room while I sleep with Mama. But now that Hotaru's here—

I don't even have a chance to dwell on that matter because Hotaru's head snaps up from my shoulder and I'm startled. She sniffs the air. Only one word escapes her mouth. "Food."

And before I know it, she's already dashing into the kitchen.

* * *

After Hotaru's well-fed and I've had my third serving of bread pudding, the whole family plus Hotaru sits in the living room and we begin to discuss the sleeping arrangements.

"Well," Mama begins, "Hotaru can take Ruka's room and three of us will sleep in my room."

"But wouldn't that be rather uncomfortable?" Father scratches his chin lightly. "I suppose I can sleep in the living room for two nights."

"No," I say, "no."

Hotaru shifts in her seat. "I won't mind sleeping in the living room, to be honest. The couch is fine."

"But our couch is old and it'll give you a backache," I turn to her. "Trust me, I should know."

"It's fine. I don't mind."

"No, absolutely not."

After twenty minutes of bickering, we finally arrive at a conclusion. Mama will sleep in her room while Father will sleep in mine. As for Hotaru and me, Mama has agreed to pull out our old, unused futon on the living room floor for Hotaru while I'll sleep on the couch to keep her company.

Oh joy. The couch. The thought of the soreness of my back from a long nap still haunts me. But oh well, guess I'll have to live with it.

So at night, when both my parents have retired into their rooms, Hotaru and I are left alone in the living room and we cuddle on the couch watching some random programme on TV. The two of us are already in our sleepwear, Hotaru wearing a silk robe over her pyjamas while I'm dressed in an old T-shirt and shorts.

Halfway through the show, Hotaru's already yawning and her eyelids begin to grow heavy.

"You want to go to sleep now?" Hotaru doesn't answer but instead chooses move to the futon while I remain on my bed for the night. "Good night," I wish her then turn off the lights as well as the television.

"Good night, Ruka," comes her reply from the darkness. I pat my pillow then lean back onto the couch as I try to make myself as comfortable as possible on this ridiculously uncomfortable couch.

I should really get a new couch for Mama.

But after ten minutes of tossing and turning I can't find the slightest will to go to sleep. So instead, lying on my side, I try to make out Hotaru's frame in the dark. "Hotaru? Are you asleep?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" I stretch my neck forwards to her.

"Yes."

"Are you really sure?"

Hotaru goes quiet before a heavy sigh escapes her lips. There's the sound of her body shuffling against the sheets and covers before she speaks. "What do you want, Ruka?"

I shrug, forgetting the fact that she probably can't see me. "Talk?"

She groans. "It's late, I'm tired. Can you please just go to sleep?"

"Well, can you tell me why you're here in France?"

"I told you, my meeting—"

"I know that, but all I'm asking is—" I pause, "—why are you here, in France, when you could have taken a plane back to Japan instead? Besides, I'll be on a flight home the day after tomorrow."

Silence settles between us as I wait for her to reply. "Is it a crime for me to come here?"

I feel myself raising an eyebrow. "That's not what I mean, you know that."

And then Hotaru begins to falter in her speech. "I—I just—" then she stops, her mind no doubt working furiously to string words together. Finally, she says in this small, small voice that I almost missed.

Almost.

"I wanted to see you. There, satisfied?"

I can't help myself as my lips curve upwards to form a grin. I settle myself back into the couch and pull the cover to my chin.

"This couch is really uncomfortable," I grumble, "_really_ uncomfortable"

Then there are some noises of Hotaru shuffling in her futon. She pats the bed. "Come here."

I raise an eyebrow. By rolling to the edge of the sofa, I let myself fall from the couch onto her futon with a muffled thud. I can feel the warmth from her body exactly right beside me. "Better?" she asks, though slightly annoyed. The upper part of her body is propped up by her arm.

Without a warning, I reach out pull her over and Hotaru responds with a cry of surprise. Next thing she knows, her head is pushed to my chest, our bodies separated only by our clothes. She stubbornly keeps her arms by her side.

"That's better." I say and close my eyes, finally feeling comfortable.

"I hate you." She mumbles into my shirt.

"I love you too, Hotaru." I pat the back of her head gently, feeling her soft hair against my palm. "I love you too."

* * *

Our initial plans for the next day was to stay home, laze around, watch some TV and go for a walk within the neighbourhood but then Mama was adamant on kicking us out.

"Out, out, out you two go. Stop sitting around in the house like sacks of potato and get out and do something."

And so we eventually find ourselves strolling around the heart of France, the city of Paris. First we stopped by at a cafe for some good ol' French coffee and pastries before heading to the Louvre. I've only been here once on a school field trip and that was at least fifteen years ago. I'm not someone who is especially artsy, but I took my time looking at the paintings, frequently sneaking glances at Hotaru who was much more interested in the works. Sometimes she would lean in, paying more attention to a certain part of an artwork; her eyes would narrow into thin lines.

Trust me when I say that Hotaru's very pretty when she's being serious—which is actually most of the time, come to think of it.

Three hours later, the two of us walked down the streets of Champ Elysees, passed the luxurious boutiques, upscale restaurants and cafés. Occasionally, Hotaru would stop before a shop, stare into the glass window then proceed down the street.

"Don't you want to get something? Macarons?" I ask as we walk pass the famous Laduree patisserie. But Hotaru just shoots me a sideways glare.

"They are sweet, Nogi. Ridiculously so. Do you really expect me to put that into my mouth?"

"Guess not," I mutter. I'm reminded of how cold Hotaru can be at times. I grimace.

We come across a jewellery salon.

I'm about to walk past it at first but Hotaru halts without a warning, thus stopping me in my tracks with a surprised jerk. I turn around to see her eyes staring right into the shop's window displays.

"Hotaru?" But she doesn't reply, instead decides to enter the shop, pulling me along behind her.

A friendly shop assistant walks over to us the moment Hotaru takes a step through the entrance. She brandishes a grin at us. "_Bonjour, monsieur, madame_. Welcome to—"

But she doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence as an unfriendly Hotaru raises a hand to her, palm facing outward, stopping her in mid-sentence. She walks confidently over to a display cabinet that showcases a series of diamond rings. She points at one with a diamond that's the size of an almond, dazzling the eyes as the mathematically precise cuts on its surface throw off the lights shone onto it. I glance at its price and have to keep my jaw from dislocating

"That one," says Hotaru. The shop assistant dons on a pair of gloves and carefully removes the ring from the cabinet before handing over to Hotaru. She slips it onto her ring finger, then holds out her hand to admire it with her usual deadpan expression. It fits her perfectly.

She turns to me. "Thoughts?"

I gulp. "Uhh... It looks, pretty good."

She cocks her head to one side. "It does, doesn't it?"

The shop assistant begins to explain about the ring, Hotaru listens to her half-heartedly while I can barely hear a word she's saying—my brain's too busy processing all that is happening.

Hotaru's looking at a ring. She's looking at a _ring_. She's looking at an _engagement ring_. She's _wearing_ an engagement ring. She's wearing an engagement ring that will not only cost me an arm and a leg, but my entire body and soul.

_Why _is she looking at _rings_?

But before I can dwell on the question any longer, Hotaru removes the ring from her finger and hands it back to the shop assistant. "That would be all, thank you."

Eh..?

The shop assistant smiles but it's obvious she's slightly disappointed. Hotaru gets up from her seat. "Come on, Ruka. Let's go."

As we exit the shop, I'm still rather dazed. "What just happened?"

Hotaru merely raises and eyebrow as if to say, 'what what happened?'

"_That._ You were looking at engagement rings."

She shrugs. "So?"

"So—I mean—Hotaru—I—"

"Spit it out."

"Why exactly were you looking at rings?"

She doesn't answer immediately. "Just because."

I scoff. "Hotaru doesn't do things 'just because'. Are you—are you thinking about something...?"

"About...?" The look on her face urges me to finish my sentence.

I gulp. "About—get-getting m-married?"

She turns to me with the smallest on her lips. "To who?"

"What—I mean—" A minute later and words still fail me. I give up with a sigh and run a hand through my hair. "Never mind." And we continue walking.

A while later, we come to a stop. Slowly, a grin breaks out on my face. I grab Hotaru's hand. "Come, I've got something to show you."

We head over to a red-brick building that looks somewhat out of place among the other 19th-century blocks. I push open the glass doors.

"Where are we?" Hotaru asks.

"Apollo Dance Academy." I reply simply.

She rolls her eyes. "I got that much from the sign outside. Let me rephrase, _why_ are we here?"

"Simple. This is the place I grew up in."

It doesn't take much more explanation for Hotaru to figure things out. A look of understanding dawns upon her face. "I see. So this is the place where Lisette works as a dance teacher."

I nod. A girl I don't recognise who's sitting at the desk looks up from her computer screen at us. She rises from her seat. I haven't been to this place for almost two years now and this girl must have begun working here in that period of time. "_Bonjour_. Can I help you?"

"Do you mind if we look around?"

"Sure, allow me to show you around. Are you interested in taking up dance lessons?"

"There is no need. And no, I'm not here for lessons."

The girl is surprised at my unexpected reply. "_Pardon?_"

"My mother's Lisette, I grew up here and I probably know this place better than you do." I throw a wink at her and wave. "See you."

Pulling Hotaru behind me, we make our way through the academy. There isn't much to see or do besides watching students practice through windows, but it sure brings back memories.

"My mom usually uses this room." I explain to Hotaru as we stand outside the door leading to a room which I know—like all the other practice rooms in the academy—has mirrors covering all walls in it. "When I was younger, I would spend most of my time here. Though sometimes I'd run off to other rooms and eavesdrop on other lessons. Then again, the other teachers never minded. I was pretty much the golden boy."

"I'm sure you were," Hotaru responds drily.

We move on to another room and when I carefully pull the curtain away to take a peek at what's inside to discover that there are at least twelve contemporary dancers in the room, all of them seem to be high-school students at the very least. I follow their gaze to see an instructor around my age standing before the students. Her blonde hair is tied into a messy ponytail and she's wearing nothing but a tank top and sweatpants.

I smile at the sight of her. _This_ certainly brings back memories.

"Why are you smiling?"

I turn around to Hotaru and shrug. "Just reminiscing."

She eyes me warily but doesn't comment any further. Instead, she turns around. "I'm heading to the washroom."

I gesture the end of the hallway. "Turn left at the end."

I return my attention to the dance lesson just as the blonde claps her hands together, no doubt dismissing the class, but since their bags are still left in the room as they shuffle out from the practice room, they must be going for a short break.

When the only person that's left in the room is the blonde instructor, I quietly make my way into the room, careful not to startle her as she bends down for a drink from her water bottle. The moment she turns around, she jumps with fright. A hand flies to the front of her chest.

"_Oh mon Dieu!_" She gasps. She soon recovers, bursts out laughing before a soft smile settles on her lips.

"Luca," she greets, "it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It certainly has." I take a step forward, arms extended but the girl backs away from me, smirking.

"No. You know the rules." She bends down to a radio and a few moments later, a song begins to play. The girl stretches her neck, her legs and her back then looks straight at me.

I laugh. "Come on, give me a break. It's been so long since I did any serious dancing."

But the girl is unforgiving as she walks to the other end of the room with a few graceful steps. She turns around and the smirk never leaves her lips. "Too late."

And she runs right at me. Thankfully I'm able to recollect myself at the last second and when she's only one feet away from me, I reflexively bend down a little with my arms extended. She runs straight into them and I lift her into the air by her waist.

For the next minute, I dance. My limbs move at their own accord after having the routine drilled into my muscles for one week straight for a last-minute performance. Not even two years of disuse can make me forget the moves. As for my dance partner, it's obvious that neither has she.

I catch a few glimpses of us in the mirror and I know that if my mother was here, she would have shed a tear at the two of us moving in perfectly brilliant sync. Each movement is executed flawlessly; each jump, each pirouette, each fall is done to perfection.

When we're almost at the ending, I look at my partner straight in the eyes and we give each other the slightest nod as a mutual understanding passes between us. Two turns later, she falls into my arm gracefully and I capture her small hand in a firm grip before dipping her at the exact moment the song ends. Never once do we break our gaze.

I pull to her feet as if she weighs nothing. She throws me a towel and I wipe away the layer of sweat on my forehead and around my neck as she takes a swig from her bottle before handing it over to me. I accept it and let out a satisfied sigh after having three large gulps of water. Our eyes meet when I hand it back to her and our fingers brush.

We laugh and we wrap our arms around each others' sweaty forms. She places a quick kiss on my cheek.

"It's nice to see you again, Luna."

"You too."

"You two certainly had fun."

My back stiffens in an instant upon hearing the voice and the smile on my face fades away. I glance at the mirror to see the reflection Hotaru standing at the entrance, looking less than amuse. I pull away from Luna abruptly, feeling guilty already. Hotaru walks over to us, arms crossed; her expression is stoic but I notice the twitch in her eyebrow.

Crap.

With my head hanging low, I move over to Hotaru's side and begin to snake an arm around her waist. But to my dismay, her body shies away from my touch and I let my arm fall back to my side.

I clear my throat. "Hotaru, this is Luna. Luna, this is Hotaru," I say, "my girlfriend."

A look of understanding crosses Luna's face as her mouth forms a small 'o'. She holds out a hand. "It's nice meeting you, Hotaru. I'm Luna, Luca's dance partner." Luna punches my arm in a playful manner. "And I'm also his ex."

Oh no. _Oh_ no. Oh _no_. _Oh no_. **Oh no**. _**Oh no**_.

A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead to my chin and trust me when I say that it's not from the previous workout. Hotaru's cheek twitches ever so slightly and I begin saying my prayers. Luna sends me an innocent look and I harden my gaze at her.

_What do you think you're doing, Luna?!_

I'm not sure if she gets my message but for a fraction of a second, I swear that I saw her smile changing into a smirk instead.

"His_ ex_?" Hotaru looks over, seemingly unperturbed but I am reminded of the twitch. I don't get a chance to explain myself because Luna's already firing away.

"Yep. We dated in high-school and a few years after Luca moved to Japan. But then the entire long-distance-relationship thing didn't really work out between us for we broke it off. But we're still friends" She places an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. "It's such a shame though, I'm told we make the perfect couple and Luca's such a great kisser."

What the... I stare wide-eyed at Luna.

Hotaru nods slowly. "I see."

I attempt to shrug Luna's arm away but it stays stubbornly on me. Luna's flashing one of those million-dollar smiles of hers. "So how long have you two been dating? Luca's a real sweetheart isn't he? Not a single girl in high school was able to resist his killer charm; it was such a chore to keep them at bay. The fact that Luca is so easy and carefree around girl does not help the situation at all. I hope you're not having the same trouble as I did, Hotaru."

I pale, and pale, and pale as Hotaru's expression darkens.

"Luna..." I mutter under my breath. She doesn't even look at me. I reach over to pinch her on her arm but she avoids it by casually bringing her hand up to her head to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Hotaru looks at me and I practically kill myself by attempting to figure out what's on her mind. She looks calm but I know better. "Is that so, Ruka? I have yet to encounter such nuisances but thank you for the warning. Excuse me, but I'll be taking my leave. I'll leave you guys be."

Hotaru turns on her heels and leaves the practice room before I can even call out to her. Luna waves at her leaving form. "Bye Hotaru! See you again! Maybe we should meet up for coffee some time." The curtains are drawn with a swoosh and Hotaru's already gone. Luna turns back to me. "Your girlfriend is scary~" she sings.

I smack her arm away. "What the hell, Luna? What was that for?"

Luna's jaw goes slack as she stares at me innocently. "What?" She cries out, indignant. "I just said she's scary. _She is_!"

"Not that, you know very well what I mean."

"The fangirls and you charming the panties off them?" Luna laughs airily. I narrow my eyes into slits. What is her problem? "I was only telling the truth."

I raise my voice. "But there was no reason for you to tell her that! And what's this about me being a great kisser?"

Luna merely shrugs and she reaches out to touch my arm but I smack her hand away. Her smile stiffens and she clears her throat. "You _are_ a great kisser and for your information, she's your girlfriend. I just thought that she should know." She seems crossed, creasing her forehead while placing both arms on her hips. "_I _would want to know."

I look at her, disgusted. "What is wrong with you? Are you trying to ruin my relationship with Hotaru? What the hell, Luna?"

"Maybe I am." Luna thrusts her chin at me. "Maybe I am. Maybe it's because I'm jealous."

"Luna, we're not dating any more. What is wrong with you?"

She raises her voice. "But that doesn't mean I don't love you! Perhaps I didn't want to break up in the first place."

"What the hell? Don't forget that you were the one who suggested that we break up in the first place!"

"Well what if I realised I made a mistake and I change my mind?" There are tears in her eyes. "What then huh?"

I open my mouth to speak but no retort comes to mind. In the end, I just shake my head. "Grow up, Luna." I turn around and run out from the room. Fishing out my phone from my pocket, I dial Hotaru's number but to dismay, she doesn't pick up.

Thankfully—praise the gods—I find her sitting quietly at the reception area, flipping through magazines. I run over to her. Sensing my presence, she looks up from the magazine but is taken by surprise when I wrap my arms around her.

"Ruka—"

"I'm so, so, so sorry about Luna. I seriously have no idea what's gotten into her."

She blinks at me, seemingly puzzled but nods. "Okay..."

"Please don't be mad."

Hotaru continues to blink then narrows her eyes. "Should I be?"

I stare at her calm, expressionless face and my grip loosens. "Eh? Aren't you?"

"Should I be?"

"B-b-but Luna and the fangirls and—everything—and you didn't pick up your phone! I called three times."

I study her amethyst irises as she just stares. She picks up her phone to check. "It was on silent." She flashes the screen at me where it shows that she has three missed calls. "Sorry about that." Hotaru casually tosses her phone into her bag.

I blink. "So you're not mad?"

An irritated look settles in her eyes and I immediately back away. "Do you want me to be mad at you? I can do that easily."

Someone coughs behind us and I turn around to see the receptionist shooting a pointed look towards our direction. Embarrassed, I put an arm around Hotaru's shoulder and navigate ourselves out the doors of the academy. I pull her to a quiet alley right next to the building. Hotaru shakes my hand away in annoyance.

"Ruka, what is your problem?"

"Listen, about Luna—"

"Are you going to apologise and attempt to defend yourself against her claims as well telling me more pathetic 'I'm sorry's' because you think that I'd be affected by her words and become jealous?" Hotaru speaks in a measured tone then arches her brow. "If your answer is a 'yes', then please save your breath."

I stand there, mouth agape and stare at Hotaru who has her head held high, arms crossed. My speech ability eludes me. A smirk appears on her lips. "I see that my assumption is correct."

"So—you're not mad?"

Hotaru releases an exasperated sigh, muttering something that sounds like 'how stupid can you be' under her breath. "Listen carefully, Ruka Nogi, I am not angry at you, or at least I am not angry of you because of your ex-girlfriend's little speech. However, I am starting to get a little irritated at your understanding of things, or the lack of it, to be more accurate. Because of this, I am seriously considering hitting you with my gun." She reaches into her bag then pulls out her Baka Gun before shoving the barrel at my face.

Well that escalated quickly.

"I dare you to ask me one more time on whether if I'm mad." There's an evil glint in her eyes.

I hold up my hands. "O-okay, you're not mad."

She doesn't remove the gun from my face. "But I would like take the chance to warn you this: I don't care if your friend was telling the truth, but if I see you flirting with any other female, I will not give you the chance to ask me if I'm mad." She lets the words 'because you would be dead by then' hang in the air but I get the gist. "Understand?" I nod and to my relief, she keeps the gun back into her bag.

"So you're—" Hotaru glares at me, and swallow back the rest of the sentence. I decide to change the question. "We're good?"

She shoulders her bag then turns, heading back to the main street. "We're good."

I run after her and pull her closer to me by the waist. I press a kiss into her hair, breathing out a sigh of relief at the same time. As always, I'm greeted with the smell of tea and lavender and my emotions are easily soothed.

...

...

...

"But seriously, you're not mad right?"

She socks me right in the gut.

* * *

**Recently I've made a new Tumblr specially for longish author's notes, out-takes, behind-the-scenes stuff as well as bits and pieces that never made it to FFn. Link's on my profile. And since I'm thinking to do some writing exercises, I'd be more than glad if you can post some prompts/requests over there. :D 'nyway, thanks for reading and we're almost at the end. **


	18. Dixhuit

dix-huit

* * *

An hour before our flight, both of my parents have their arms wrapped around each other. Mama's kissing father on the cheeks, he's pressing his lips to her hair, tears running down their faces.

To put it shortly, everything's a mess. One gigantic, heart-breaking mess.

I cast my gaze onto the floor and even Hotaru can't help but look away.

Everyone knows that this may be their very last meeting. I guess that's why we're all just one big ball of emotions.

And then they're clutching onto each other tighter, tighter, tighter, digging their nails into each other, clawing even. Mama nuzzles into the crook between Father's neck and shoulder, crying her heart out while he strokes her hair, trying to be brave, trying his best not to cry and doing a very poor job at it.

"I love you, Lisette. I love you so much it hurts. I'm so sorry," he whispers, "I'm so sorry."

Then Mama's nodding her head earnestly, like her life depends on it. She pulls away from his shoulder and looks Father in the eyes, pressing both palms onto the either side of his cheeks. "I know, I know. I forgive you. Oh Tetsu, Tetsu, Tetsu, Tetsu, Tetsu."

Her cries grow louder and so do Father's and the two of them are muttering incoherently between sobs, neither of them willing to be the one to let go. They stay like that for a while, just clutching, crying. It isn't until it's time for us to board the plane do they pull apart. I step over to Mama and wrap my arms around her.

"I love you, Mama," I tell her. She stands on tiptoes and kisses my cheeks repeatedly, her wet cheeks brushing against mine.

"Please be there for your father, Luca. Please, I beg of you, please be there for your Papa."

I nod, swallowing saliva down my throat. "I know," I manage to choke out the words, "I will."

Then we board the plane. Hotaru—bless her soul—managed to get us upgraded to first-class seats so there isn't any uncomfortable shuffling or knee-bumps with strangers as we make our way to our seats. Father takes a seat by the window and he just stares out of it, unusually but understandably quiet. I sit beside Hotaru.

That's when I feel a buzz in my pocket. I reach into it then fish out my phone as it displays that I have one unread message. I tap on it.

_I'm very sorry about yesterday. Can you please forgive me? Let me make things right. I miss you so much. –Luna._

"Sir, do switch off your cell phones as the plane will be taking off soon. Thank you." An air stewardess appear standing next to me and sends me the warmest smile yet. I hesitate, surprised at her sudden appearance but quickly apologise and do as she said. Satisfied, she walks away to another passenger with a phone in his hand, no doubt telling him the same thing

Hotaru looks at me. "What is it?"

I smile at her then reach out to hold her hand in mine. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

Almost two months after we returned from France, five months after his diagnosis, Father passed away. Keiko told me —while choking back tears—he left in his sleep, peacefully, calmly, a blessing after all he's been through.

The funeral was held two days after and only a fair amount of mourners attended it: Keiko and Mia, some of Father's closest friends, the uncle who I've never met—who was the one who caused the separation between Mama and Father—and his family, Mama who took the first flight she could find and I've never seen her so beat up, so frail and weak.

And I was there too. His son. His _only_ son.

It was a quiet one, the funeral. No one spoke much; conversations were held in whispers and the loudest person was the priest who was in charge of everything, as he droned on in that monotonous voice, telling us how Father's now in the hands of God, how he's one of the angels now. Talking so much, but told so little. The priest spoke about Father as if he knew him, knew his life before it was cut short by cancer, yet with so little emotion.

It was pathetic, to say the least.

As I close the door behind me after putting mom to bed, I feel exhausted. My bones feel heavy, my limbs feel weak. I suck in a deep breath and try to hold the tears back in. After hearing the news from Keiko, I had cried for hours, wailing like a kid, screamed till my lungs gave out, my voice hoarse.

Mindlessly, I walk towards the front door, open it then lock it behind me before heading to my car. I'm not sure I know what I'm doing. I'm not sure where I should go. But I get into my car and I begin to drive.

Soon, I find myself at the Imai Tower and before I understand what's going on, I'm standing in the middle of Hotaru's living room, her butler hurries off to inform her of my arrival. Barely a minute has passed when she appears, dressed in a simple grey shirt and shorts as well as an old cardigan, and wraps her arms around me without a word. I relax in her arms and just cry. She's quiet as she strokes my back, holding me like how Mama had held my father at the airport.

Hotaru didn't attend the funeral simply because I told her not to. She _is_ Hotaru Imai, no doubt that fingers will be pointed, and gossips will be exchanged if she was there. I'm sure Father will understand, he wouldn't mind.

Hotaru guides me to the couch, sits down then gently pats the space on her lap. I comply and quietly lie down on it before setting my head on her lap. She places a comforting hand on my cheek.

"Don't cry, Ruka, don't cry," she whispers, "I'm here."

I close my eyes, completely worn out from all that's happened. It's quiet and to be like this, with Hotaru by my side, it's nice. I feel my eyelids getting heavier by the second.

"Hotaru," I mutter, "please stay with me. Please."

She leans forward and I can feel the ends of her hair tickling my face when she plants a tender kiss onto my forehead. "I will, Ruka. I promise you, I will stay." She curls a lock of my hair around her finger. "Because I love you, I will stay."

Hotaru isn't someone of many words, but when she does speak, she knows all the right words to say and all the right ways to tell them. For that, I am grateful.

* * *

"Ack," I cry as oil from the pan splatters onto my skin. I scowl and glance at the clock. There's less than an hour left.

To my greatest horror, the doorbell rings, throwing me into a flurry of curses and trying to keep the lamb from burning. I look at the clock to make sure that I'm still on schedule.

Then again, Hotaru has always has this habit of being a little bit too early. A curse escapes my lips as I hurry to flip the meat over then rush to the front door. Hotaru's standing there patiently, radiant as ever as I pull the door open.

"Hey," I greet her, rather breathlessly before leaning in to peck her on the lips. It's almost hard to stop myself from doing a little happy dance right then and right there when I whiff the familiar perfume on her skin. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," she replies then takes a step into my apartment then I close the door behind her. She looks around, her expression blank and I feel a bead of sweat running down my neck. As long as she doesn't go into the kitchen—which I know looks like a war zone at the moment—I'm safe.

Hotaru clicks her tongue in a disapproving manner and my heart stops. "Your apartment is pitifully small."

I breathe out a sigh. "It's all right for me."

"There are plenty of extra rooms for you at my place, you know that right?"

"Sweetheart, give it a rest." I roll my eyes but can't keep the relieved smile off my face. It's just the size. It's always about the size of my apartment. I gesture towards the sofa. "Take a seat. Once I'm done with the cooking, the cleaning up and the showering, then we can eat, okay?"

She nods. "Be quick about it. I'm hungry."

I grin. "When are you ever not?"

Hotaru shoots me a glare and I shut my mouth immediately. "Shoo," she snaps.

"Yes, ma'am," I tell her and then disappear into the kitchen once more.

* * *

When all the cooking's finished, the follow-up cleaning done and I'm nice and clean, dressed in clothes that don't stink of oil and sweat, I bring Hotaru to her seat at the dining table, all decorated with white linen table cloth, candlelight and rose petals. She gazes at the setting and it's so obvious she's stifling a laugh.

"What?" I ask.

Hotaru merely shakes her head. "Nothing." Then her gaze hardens. "Food, I'm hungry." I try not to roll my eyes at that and hurry to bring out the food, as per her command. I fluster about a little as I place each plate onto the table carefully, careful not to spill and Hotaru's looking as smug as ever.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I tell her, "you like seeing me this distressed."

She places her elbow on to the table then support the weight of her head on her palm. Innocently, she asks, "Am I now?"

"Yes, you are." But it's hard to even be annoyed at her because the look Hotaru sends me is tender, affectionate and downright lovable. I clear my throat and feel the heat on my face. I place the last plate onto the table and take my seat across her. "There. _Bon appétit, mademoiselle_."

She looks at them all then picks up a fork to pierce a piece of crabmeat in the salad. Bingo. Hotaru places it in her mouth, savours the taste, chews then swallows. I watch her intently, waiting for the verdict. Finally, she nods and I can tell that she's impressed, though she tries to hide it.

"So?" I ask.

Hotaru shrugs. "It's fine," she says as nonchalant as possible but within two minutes she's cleaned her plate and moves on to the main course. But right before she digs into the steak, she looks at me abruptly. I stare back at her.

"What?"

"This is it?"

I blink at her, her question taking me by surprise. "Uh, well, there's some dessert. I made dessert. Apple pie. I hope that's all right with you…"

She sends me one of her exasperated looks and I'm simply puzzled. Am I missing anything? There's the food, the candlelight, the rose petals, I'm wearing the tie she gave me.

_Am_ I missing anything?

Hotaru rolls her eyes prettily—I'm not sure how that's possible, but she did it—and puts down her fork. She gives me one pointed look. "I'd like to wash all this down with something to _drink_, Ruka."

Oh.

"Oh, _drinks_!_ The wine_!" And I'm shoving my chair backwards and it topples to the floor before running to the kitchen to retrieve two wineglasses and a bottle of fine wine. Hotaru doesn't exactly look happy when I return. I place both glasses onto the table and try my best to pour some red wine into them after removing the cork. Hotaru shakes her head then picks up a glass.

"Sorry," I mumble but she ignores me, her eyes are fixed onto the glass dangling between her fingers as she swirls and examines it with an expert's gaze. She lifts it to her nose, takes whiff then sips.

"Not bad." And I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

I look up at her and our eyes meet, our gaze lock. This is when Hotaru does something I don't think I have ever seen her do.

Her lips curve upwards and part, exposing two perfect lines of white teeth, simply blinding against her crimson lips. She lowers her lashes before looking up at me from underneath them and my breath hitches.

Hotaru's grin is brilliantly stunning.

I gulp and my fingers tremble when I reach out to pick up my wineglass.

The weight in my pocket has never felt so heavy.

"Hotaru," I say and she looks at me while digging into her steak.

_Say it._

My lips feel dry

_Do it._

"I…"

Her brows furrow. "What?"

_What are you waiting for?_

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I muster up the strength to smile.

"Thank you."

Hotaru arches an eyebrow then bites off a piece of meat on her fork. I watch the movement of jaw, her cheeks as she chews.

"All this time, thank you for being there always. Like the thing with my father and when he died, I know I haven't really been myself after that and I'm sorry. I'm sorry and I don't I can ever thank you enough. You've just been—so amazing, _so great_. I'm really thankful that you're here. I'm grateful for the fact that I met you, and that you're here with me." I lick my lips nervously before continuing, clasping my fingers together. "Hotaru, you are one of the most amazing things in my life. I don't think there are words that can describe how thankful I am that you're here, and no words will suffice in expressing how much I appreciate, how much I adore, and how much I truly love you."

I reach out to hold onto her hand on the table then begin to caress the back of her hand with my thumb. "I love you, Hotaru Imai. I really do." I lean forward to kiss it.

Shit. I can feel tears in my eyes. Hastily, I wipe them away. I look up to find Hotaru staring at me, wide-eyed. Is she surprised? Is she touched? Is she mad? Is she disgusted? Honestly I can't tell.

When she finally regains her senses, Hotaru looks away, her cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of pink. But she doesn't pull her hand away. I take this as a good sign and rise from my seat then with measured steps, walk over to her before bending down to look up at her.

Hotaru's _beautiful._

She stares at me, but I can tell that she's composed herself in those few seconds for she looks like her usual self. Cool, calm, collected. She tilts her chin upwards just a little.

I beam at her.

"Hotaru,"

"Yes, Ruka?"

"Happy birthday."

Her lips twist into a soft smile and Hotaru kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispers into my ear and pulls away.

I breathe in. I breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

Gingerly, I reach into my pocket to pull out a small box. Hotaru's eyes widen into plates when she realises what it is. I hold it in the middle of my palm. Hotaru's deadly quiet.

"This, this thing, although it isn't the same one like the one you saw in France, but trust me when I say that this thing isn't cheap either. It cost quite a lot. But then it's you, so everything's worth it." I swear I hear a very sharp intake of breath coming from her when I flip open the small box to reveal its content. I meet her gaze. Hotaru's speechless.

I breathe in. I breathe out.

"Hotaru," I begin, and then lick my lips nervously. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

**Updates will be regular (every Thursday) since I've finished writing all chapter! WEEEEEE! WE'RE RIGHT ON SCHEDULE, PALS!**


	19. Dixneuf

dix-neuf

* * *

"Natsume,"

He responds with a quiet 'hm' while cracking open two cans of beer, places one into my hand and touches his to mine. The can is cool against my sweaty palm. Natsume kicks up his feet onto the coffee table and slouches like a cat, making sure that he's comfortable before taking a swig.

"What?" he asks.

"Have I told you that I proposed to Hotaru?"

Natsume chokes, splutters and beer dribbles down his chin. His shirt darkens in patches as the liquid soaks into the fabric but Natsume has his eyes firmly on me, red irises digging hypothetical daggers into my skull, not the least bit bothered by the fact that one of his favourite shirts—a gift from Mikan during the early stages of their relationship—might be ruined.

"The fuck did you say?"

I stare at the lid of my can, focusing on the smallest details of it as my thumb traces the edges. "I proposed to Hotaru."

Natsume shoots me this incredulous look that's a mix between surprise, bewilderment, a little bit of incomprehension and—horror? His jaw goes slack then he narrows his eyes at me. "Are you crazy?"

I nod slowly. "Maybe just a little." Or maybe a little bit more than a little.

I'm not going to lie, it's _fun_ watching the look on Natsume's face as a myriad of emotions flicker past it while he attempts to make out what he had just heard. "You," he begins, waving his finger at me, "you _proposed _to Imai? _Proposed_? As in _marriage_? As in wedding bells and holy matrimony and a lifetime contract and all that shit?_ Imai_?"

I glance at him, suddenly feeling nervous for no reason. "Yes. We have been _dating,_ you know that right?"

"I've been praying for this relationship to crash and burn, you know that right?" He snaps and takes another swig from his can, downing all its content in one gulp. Natsume crushes the empty can, tosses it at a basket and misses.

The thought of shooting a sarcastic remark right back at him is tempting but none that's good enough comes to mind. So I shrug. "I had a hunch."

Natsume eyes me warily. "And you know_ why_ right?"

I heave a sigh. "Because you don't like her, she's a sadist blah blah, she's crazy blah blah, she performs castration for fun blah blah. Yeah, I think you made that clear."

He throws his hands up into the air. "And yet you _still_ shoved a foot into it. Scratch that, you willingly_ jumped_ into it, knowing that this will be the death of you."

"Natsume," I say, trying not to be irritated, trying not to seem affronted, trying to keep my tone as measured as possible, "we've been going out for a year now, are you ever going to accept that? And Hotaru's a great woman, I swear."

"Yeah, I believe you," he mutters drily then pops the tab of another can open. "You're insane."

I raise mine to my lips for a sip. "Bottles would have been better, you know."

"It's new year's eve. People like getting drunk on New Year's Eve. Bottled beers go off shelves faster than you can blink." He glares at me. "Be grateful that I got us _something_."

Shaking my head, I breathe out heavily, lamenting at our pathetic state. Two grown men spending New Year 's Eve alone in an apartment, the only companions for the night being some cheap beer, some cheaper television show and each other. We could have gone to a bar, get drunk on better beer, have some proper fun as we bid the year goodbye before the new one rolls in. But no. We don't because Mikan's all the way in Maldives with her family, Hotaru's buried deep in work—who the hell works on new year's eve?—and Natsume suddenly decides that he doesn't like crowds.

Bloody hell. He used to be _the_ party animal. He partied _harder_ and _better _and _wilder_ than any of us.

"So what now?" Natsume mumbles, cheeks now a faint shade of pink but still sober. "You getting married? When the fuck did all this happen?"

"October 25th, her birthday."

"Fucking hell!" Natsume straightens in his seat. "And you're only telling me this now? God knows if you're_ already_ married!" He eyes my finger for a ring. There isn't one.

"I'm not," I tell him calmly. "Hotaru, she turned me down."

For the second time of the night, Natsume spills beer onto his shirt and a string of very colourful expletives tumbles out from his lips. I sigh. He sure can swear like a sailor sometimes.

"She rejected you? She fucking _rejected _you? _What the flying fuck_, she _rejected _your proposal?" Then his eyes widen as if sudden realisation dawned and Natsume's staring at me like a hawk. "But you're still _together_. We had lunch last week, all_ four_ us. Ruka, _what the fuck is going on?"_

I rub my palms together, wet from both sweat and condensation on the can. "Well, for the sake of accuracy, Hotaru didn't _reject_ me. All she said was, while I was down on one knee with a ring box in my hand, _'Go back to your seat, Nogi_.'"

Natsume's jaw hangs open. "Remind me again _why_ are you still dating this psychopath? By the way, you're an _idiot_. When someone tells you that when you're proposing, you don't get back together. You break the fuck up and run the fuck away."

"Because everything went back to normal after that. And thanks for the compliment."

His brow twitches. "What do you mean _normal?_ Didn't you two talk about this? You didn't _talk_ about it? Didn't you throw a fit? Aren't you _upset?_ Why are you still _with_ her? What the _fuck_ is going on—oh my head hurts." Natsume presses his fingers to his temple.

I roll my eyes at his dramatics. "She told me I made good steak and talked about how the stocks are in a horrendous shape except for Imai Corp. and complained how tiny my apartment is. I was stunned,_ I didn't know what to do_ and then she looked at me and asked if I was okay and I told her I was fine. I was in a state of shock Natsume, _give me a fucking break_."

Everything goes silent save for the TV and Natsume just looks at me with an unsettling, unwavering gaze. Then he turns away and leans back into his couch. Just when I think he's finally calmed down and cutting me some slack, Natsume grabs a new can of beer and I fumble to catch it as he tosses it at me.

"Get out."

_What?_

"What?"

"I'm throwing you out," he says in that infuriating formal tone that belongs to Natsume-the-ass-of-a-CEO, not Natsume-the-ass-of-a-best-friend-who's-a-bloody-pain-but-a-friend-nonetheless. "I need some times alone, so leave."

"You're not doing this to me!" I cry out. "It's bloody new year's eve."

"So? I've done worse things. Now _out_." He jerks his head at the door.

All I can do is stare, baffled, perplexed, flabbergasted but Natsume's casually sipping on his beer, not paying me the smallest attention, ignoring my presence with disconcerting ease.

"You're a shitty friend," I grumble. But he's right. Natsume's done worse things that I've put up with—_why _do I put up with him still remains a mystery.

I sure have a knack at choosing my friends.

Five minutes later, I'm out on the street, sipping beer, all alone on the night of New Year's Eve.

* * *

Hotaru looks up from her desk—mahogany, luxurious, commanding. "What are you doing here?" She hardly looks surprised, just maybe a little annoyed at my sudden appearance.

I lift the plastic bag in my hand and watches as her eyes twinkle ever so slightly. "I got you sushi. I assume you haven't had dinner?" I walk over to her desk, more than aware at the fact that Hotaru has yet to extend an invitation or grant her permission for approach. Smiling, I gesture towards the sitting area in her office. She hesitates but eventually gets up from her seat.

I place the bag onto the coffee table. "You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to get some food. Restaurants are either closed or packed." I grab a box and hand it over to Hotaru along with a pair of chopsticks. She accepts with a mutter of thanks.

"It is to be expected." She rips the cover away and pulls the chopsticks apart. "How did you get in and why are you here?"

"I walked in," I say, which she rolls her eyes at. "Natsume kicked me out and so I thought I should bring you dinner. How is it?"

Hotaru finished chewing a roll, swallows then picks up another. "Not bad. What happened?"

"I thought it looked good and they were almost closing up so it was less crowded, though it still took me half an hour to get it." I reach out for a piece of salmon but Hotaru snatches it up before me, glaring at me for attempting to steal her food. I grimace. "I told him that I proposed to you."

She eats, not the least bit disturbed. "And what made you do that?"

I shrug. "Reasons. Feelings. Spur of the moment."

Hotaru goes through her food within minutes and drains her mug while she's at it. I pick it up and head towards the kitchenette tucked away in a corner for a refill.

"Hotaru," I say once I return and hand her the mug. "Can we talk about it?"

She clears the table, shoving empty containers into the bag. "About what?"

I sit down in the armchair across her. "I proposed to you."

"That you did." She wipes the edges of her lips with a napkin.

"You turned me down."

"So?"

"So I would like to know why." Our eyes meet and I just wish that I know what she's thinking. What is it that is on her mind? Wishing that the person I fell in love with is less of an enigma. "Are you stringing me along? Is that it?"

Hotaru's expression darkens, her shoulders square and her jaw stiffens as she gives me a sharp, pointed look. "I did no such thing."

"Then what is this? J-just try and make me understand what's happening." I grip onto the bridge of my nose, feeling a migraine making its way to the back of my head. Hell, this is getting difficult and the fact that Hotaru's not even making an effort to sort things out doesn't help at all.

In a softer voice, so soft that I almost miss the words, Hotaru whispers. "It's almost twelve."

I bite at my tongue and i t takes quite a lot of stop myself from getting so frustrated to the point of screaming out loud.

It's been one heck of a long night.

"Can we please—can we _please_ talk about this? We've avoided this for two months but really, Hotaru, we need to work things out. _I _need to work things out. So help me."

"Ruka," she says, the slightest hint of exasperation in her voice. "It's almost _twelve_."

"So? Hotaru—"

Hotaru mutters something under her breath that sounds something like 'such an idiot' but I can't be sure. "Why don't you _think_, Ruka? Think back to what happened a year ago."

"I—" And the rest just dies in my throat. Hotaru notices the change and smiles knowingly.

"Exactly, Ruka," she says and picks out a candy from a bowl on the table before handing it to me. I take it without so much of a thought. "A year ago, on new year's day, you came into my house and gave me a very rude awakening, Ruka and I loathe rude awakenings more than most things. When I stepped into the living room, you were standing in the middle, looking awfully distressed, your clothes crumpled and creased while your breath reeked of alcohol. I would have called security and have you hauled out from the premises before slapping a lawsuit across your face but I didn't, Ruka. Because it was you, I didn't. I didn't do it because it was_ you_." Hotaru clasp her fingers together, tightly so that her knuckles grow whiter than they already are.

"Because of you, Ruka Nogi, I did things I never thought I would do. I let you drag me into the whole game-of-let's-pretend hubbub and it was the _stupidest_ thing I have ever done in my entire life but you know what's funny? I regret nothing." She's smiling, a little dreamy, a little wistful. "Because of you I flew all the way to France from Germany even though I could have seen you in Japan two days later, just because I missed you. When I'm with you, the wall I spent my entire whole life building all came crashing down. So how can you say that I'm stringing you along?"

I don't know what to say, too stunned for words. Hotaru lifts her gaze to me, her eyes soft and tender, so full of love that it surprises me. "Who do you think you are, Ruka Nogi? Barging into my life so loudly, making so much noise, messing up the order of everything. _Who_ do you think you are?"

I can't find the strength to pull myself away, only sinking deeper and deeper into her words, drowning myself in her penetrating gaze. Even when the clock strikes twelve and the fireworks go off behind us, beyond the panoramic windows that occupy most of her office, I don't look away. Instead, I get up from my seat to move towards her.

"Hotaru," I whisper, feather-light with a slight tremble at the end. "Hotaru, Hotaru, Hotaru." I bend down before her, tucking one knee underneath my weight.

"I wanted to say yes, Ruka. But I wasn't sure." She holds out a hand for me to hold. "It was only ten months, Ruka and I wasn't sure. I needed to be sure. I don't like taking risks, you should know that."

"Not even with me?" I ask playfully.

Hotaru chuckles then pulls her hand away from my grasp only to place it against my skin. She smiles, this time a bit more rueful. "Not even with you."

"Then," my mouth goes dry as I grow hopeful. "Then what about two months after, a year later? Is that enough to convince you?"

She arches an eyebrow. "I don't know. Is it?"

I'm not sure if that's an invitation but it doesn't stop me from pulling out the small box that has never left me for two months because I was praying, hoping that perhaps something like this might happen. That perhaps I might get a second chance.

"Hotaru," the smile on her face is enough to tell me what she has on her mind but I finish the question anyway, "will you marry me?"

She wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close. I can feel her grinning against my cheek.

My heart flutters and soars and she utters the words, "Idiot, of course." My arms travel around her frame and I revel at how snugly her body fits in my embrace, the curves fitting into all the right places. I burrow my face into the crook of her neck and tighten my hold on her. If I could, I never want to let go.

Happy anniversary, Hotaru. Happy anniversary, my love.


	20. Vingt

**Can you believe it? Nearly two years, and it's finally coming to an end. Oh all the feels. And 200 reviews. Thank you all so much for all the support you have given me and to those of you who have stuck with this story since the very beginning, thank you for not giving up on this despite the sporadic updates. **

**Enjoy. (:**

* * *

vingt

* * *

_**Million Dollar Ice Queen: Engaged?**_

_Yesterday, multi-millionaire Imai Hotaru was seen out and about with boyfriend Nogi Ruka sporting what seems to be a dazzling diamond ring on her engagement finger, leaving us to wonder if she's tying the knot any time soon. Miss Imai has yet to confirm this matter._

_Imai, who had just turned twenty-eight in October, was wearing an emerald dress when she was spotted exiting Acadia along with Nogi and photographers managed to capture a clear shot of her ring as the couple held hands._

_The pair is believed to have begun their relationship in 2010 when photos of them together began surfacing._

* * *

"Ruka~" Mikan sings as she waltzes into the room, her lavender chiffon dress fluttering at her knees. I turn around to meet her gaze and her face breaks into a brilliant grin. Natsume walks over to her side to snake an arm around her waist then plants a kiss onto her lips.

"How do I look?" I ask, already sweating in my tuxedo despite the autumn chill and also the fact that it's impossible to go outside without a coat and a warm scarf. Mikan grows pensive as she gives me a one over, taking a long enough time to have me wondering if something's wrong. She walks over to me—perfectly balanced in her six-inch stiletto heel—then tugs at my tie, adjusts the boutonnière, smooths out my jacket before cracking a smile and wraps her arms around my neck.

"Absolutely dashing," she comments with a little squeeze.

I breathe out a relieved sigh but grows nervous once my eyes fall on the cameramen that's been here from the beginning, the lens following me with every step I take. "Mikan," I whisper into her ear, "do we really need these guys around?"

She laughs. "Of course, Ruka. How else are you going to have a wedding video?"

I have to keep from groaning too loudly. "But they're making me _uncomfortable_." Yes, I do realize that I sound like a whiny kid. Mikan clicks her tongue.

She turns to the crew—there's currently only two of them in the room. "Do you think you guys have enough footage of the groom for the video?"

They murmur back a response, saying something like it'll have to do. Quietly, they shuffle out from the small room, leaving Natsume, Mikan and me alone. I kiss her on the cheek. "You're a life-saver."

"We can't have the groom break down on his big day now, can we?" Mikan winks playfully and releases her hold on me then retreats to Natsume's side.

Natsume scowls—he's been doing that a lot these few days—and grouses, "I can't believe this is happening."

Mikan and I heave collective sighs of exasperation. "Natsume,"

"You kicked me out on new year's eve for a reason," I say, pointing a finger at him, "you practically orchestrated this."

Natsume grumbles, "I did not."

"Sweetie," Mikan reprimands with a hand on his arm.

"Natsume please give it a rest already and at least pretend that you're happy for me." I walk over to a table to pick up two glasses of water, holding one out to Natsume. "Please?"

He hesitates and only when Mikan elbows him does Natsume accept the glass grudgingly. He raises his glass. "To you."

"To me." And we both drink to that.

"Mikan, how's Hotaru?" I haven't seen her for two whole days now and it's killing me to know what she looks like in her wedding gown which I am clueless about. Hotaru was adamant on not letting slip any details of her dress, telling me that I'll have to wait until the big day to find out. What's even more annoying—and quite surprising—is that even _Mikan's_ doing a great job at keeping it a secret.

"She's fine," Mikan answers, a little cryptically. She takes the glass from Natsume's hand for a sip. "Hotaru's a little nervous, but she'll get through."

"H-how does she look?"

She looks at me with a twinkle in her eyes. "Let's just say that you'll be the luckiest groom ever."

The door cracks open behind us and when we turn around, it's Mama returning from the washroom. Her eyes widen when she notices Mikan. "Oh, Mikan!" And Mikan grins like a kid when she sees Mama before running over to her—_in her freaking heels_—for a hug.

"Lisette!"

Mama smiles demurely, patting Mikan on the back. Dressed in her silver gown that was her best dress for twenty years, Mama looks regally serene. She kisses Mikan on the cheeks and in passable Japanese, says, "Thank you so much for helping out with things."

"Oh it's my pleasure. It's the least I can do for Hotaru and it was much fun." I guess she's forgotten all the moments when Mikan went into bridezilla-mode, screaming and snapping at anyone who so much as walked into her vision. To think that this isn't even her own wedding. I find myself praying for Natsume's well-being for when the time comes.

The two women exchange a few more words until Mikan glances at her watch and shrieks.

"Oh my god, we need to get you ready for the first look footage and then you have to go to the reception. Oh my god, we're going to go off schedule." Mikan flails and Natsume attempts to calm her down.

"Mikan," he says, holding onto his girlfriend by the waist, "relax, relax, There's still plenty of time left."

"No there isn't!" She cries back, looking very close to tears.

Mama edges closer to me, eyeing her warily. I place a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, this happens. She'll be fine."

She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "_Etes-vous sur?_"

I nod. "_Oui_."

Soon later, to stop Mikan from further shrieking and flailing, the three of them shuffle out from the room, Natsume keeping a hand around his girlfriend.

"Remember Ruka, three counts and then you turn. It's a one-time thing so don't mess up. And once you've sent Hotaru back, come out and receive the guests. Remember! Don't forget!"

"Yeah, I will." I say with a wave, back facing the door. When it closes behind her, silent engulfs the room and I'm left to deal with my tumultuous emotions alone. To think that in a few minutes, Hotaru will be walking through that door and I'll be seeing her for the very first time in two days. In her wedding dress, no less.

The door opens with a creak and the breath hitches in my throat. I close my eyes.

_One._

Step.

_Two._

Step.

_Three. _

Step.

"Ruka,"

I turn around, bracing myself but nothing can prepare me for what's next as I gape—yes, gape, like a fish—at Hotaru in full bridal glory. Okay maybe not full, with the veil missing from her head, but it's enough. As Hotaru takes a step forward, the bottom part of her ivory white dress ripples, the train trailing behind her. I hold out my arms and pull her in for a kiss, the back of my hand brushes against her sequinned bodice as I move to touch her face.

"Hey," I whisper once we've pulled apart, my voice trembles and I can barely find the strength to breathe.

Hotaru looks at me through her curled lashes, a glow in her amethyst eyes. "Hello."

I run a hand down her exposed back, feeling her smooth skin against my palm and watch as she visibly shivers under my touch. I grin. "Where are all the cameramen? Thought this is supposed to be the first look footage for the video?"

Hotaru picks at my jacket. "I asked them to give us some time alone."

I arch a brow. "Is that ask, or threaten? Or blackmail?"

Hotaru looks at me innocently. "There's a difference?"

"Mikan's going to freak out," I mumble softly with a sigh, happily content as I press our foreheads together, breathing in the faint floral scent on her.

"Let her," she says and her lips feel soft against mine, "the video will have to do without."

"Or we could re-enact it later?"

"Then it loses its meaning, you idiot," she says, though not unkindly.

"Hmm…" So we stay like that, arms around each other, foreheads together. Mikan appears a while later and sure enough, breaks down when she realizes that there's not going to be any first look footage. It takes a village to calm her down.

Maybe not a village, more like just one Natsume Hyuuga who gathers her into his arms, letting her cry into his shoulder as he gently strokes her hair.

Hotaru rolls her eyes. "I'll see you later."

I nod and press a kiss to her cheek. "See you at the altar." She smiles, picks up her dress and leaves, pulling Mikan along with her.

Natsume sends me a dirty look. "Honestly?"

I shrug, hands in pockets. "It was her idea."

He pinches the space between his brows and sighs with a shake of his head. "And you still call her a saint."

* * *

"I still can't believe this is happening."

I groan and try my best not to groan at him, especially not when sixty pairs of eyes are staring at me, plus one austere-looking priest whose eyes look owlish behind his glasses. He's really here more for aesthetic purposes than religious. "Natsume—"

"But," he cuts me off in a low whisper, "but, if you're happy, even if it's with _her_, then I guess that's fine."

I nudge him subtly so that the priest won't notice our exchange. "I always knew you're a cheesy old geezer at heart."

Natsume scowls. "I am never saying those words again. _Ever_."

Just when I'm about to tease him a little bit more, the pianist begins to play a chord followed by a melody and everyone is getting onto their feet. I clear my throat and turn away from Natsume, to the door as it parts to reveal Hotaru, her face now veiled. She has a hand placed at the crook of her father's arm as sunlight pools in from behind her, her form outlines by an ethereal glow. My heart stops.

She's _beautiful_.

Canon in D begins to play the same time father and daughter take their first step into the church. As they proceed down the aisle slowly, my eyes travel to all the faces that are with us today. There's Mama at the first pew, Keiko and Mia standing next to her. It wasn't easy and didn't happen overnight, but Keiko and Mia and I had bonded after my father's passing and now these two have accepted me as family and I them. And I guess it's nice, to know that I'm no longer all alone in Japan, that there are now people that I can count on, that I can call family. Mia turns her head around and our eyes meet. She sends me a smile and a small wave. I smile back.

Then at the other side there's Hotaru's family. There's her grandfather, her mother whose eyes are now red-rimmed as she rubs tears away with a silk handkerchief and there's Subaru and his wife and their children. Not to mention the rest of Hotaru's extended family. All of them looking so proud, beaming with overflowing happiness.

A little further to the back is where all our friends sit. There's Koko and Sumire—now happily married—and Koko's grinning his goofy grin as Sumire looks on dreamily; there's Yuu, kind, mild-mannered Yuu who's a better friend to Hotaru than Natsume ever will be—even though it's Natsume who Hotaru usually deals with, business or not; Anna, the baker of our cake sits a little further away but no less a friend.

I find myself wandering a little bit further in my thoughts. What might have happened if I didn't pop into Anna's café after the death of my rabbit, if I hadn't tripped and spilled coffee all over Hotaru's skirt, where would I be now? Who would I be with now? Not to mention Hotaru. Where would we be now if our paths didn't cross two years ago?

The music fades away as Hotaru and her father stops at the end of the aisle. Mr Imai wraps an arm around his daughter, struggling to hold back tears before placing her hand in mine.

"Take good care of her, Ruka," he says, "she's the only daughter I have. My only precious girl."

"I will, sir," I promise, "because she's precious to me too." Mr Imai seems pleased with my answer as he turns to take his seat next to his wife, dabbing away tears with his sleeves.

"Are you okay?' I lean in to ask. Hotaru gives a subtle nod underneath her veil.

As the priest proceeds with the ceremony, I find myself tuning him out more often than I should, my eyes and all my thoughts drifting over to the person standing next to me, head bent to the floor. To think that I once thought of her as the bane of my existence, the root of all my troubles. If only I knew back then, if only I had known.

When the time comes for the exchange of vows, we stand facing each other. I take both her hands in mine and fervently hope, pray that I won't mess up my lines. My heart's beating so fast against my ribcage.

"I, Nogi Ruka," I clear my throat then say.

"I, Imai Hotaru,"

"Promise to take you, Imai Hotaru,"

"Promise to take you, Nogi Ruka,"

"To be my wedded wife,"

"To be my wedded husband,"

I feel myself easing a little, the tension in my shoulder loosening as both Hotaru and I continue our vows in one united voice.

"To have and to hold, for better or worse, through sickness and health. I promise to love you, to cherish you, to divide your worries and multiply your joys. I do not know what the future hold, but I know that I can conquer it all, as long as I'm with you. I promise to be your constant friend, your faithful partner and your loving companion. I promise to stand by your side, never to falter. Forever and always."

"Til death," I begin and fit a ring around the fourth finger on her left hand.

"Do us part." Hotaru finishes and slips one onto mine.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest looks at us for a second, a small smile breaking his stern expression. "The groom may now kiss the bride."

The crowd breaks into a thunderous applause as Hotaru's lips crash into mine.

It is done.

* * *

**The priest really in Jinno. Lol.**

**There's still one more epilogue left plus a very longish author's note, so look forward to it and I'll see you all for the last time in the next chapter.**


	21. Épilogue

**There's actually a track for this. I'd recommend that you listen to the theme from Cast Away (/watch?v=XmgSoa9_y7E) while reading this final chapter. At least, that was on repeat as I was writing this. (:**

* * *

épilogue

* * *

The leaves rustle as a breeze passes by, the weather chilling even further in its wake. A man with a head of fair grey hair that had once been a brilliant shade of gold pushes pass the bakery's door, the tinkling of a bell and the smell of fresh bread greet the newly arrived guest.

"Careful, now," he says gently as his granddaughter skips in behind him; so full of exuberant youth, her pigtails swinging in step, crimson eyes so bright with life. The old man crinkles a smile then holds out a hand for the girl's tiny ones.

"_Monsieur Nogi_," a plump man calls from behind the counter then shuffles to move five paper bags filled with baked goods from a shelf behind him. Ruka Nogi raises a hand in greeting. "And well, who do we have here?"

"_Bonjour, Monsieur Nicolas_," the little girl greets with a little bow, her words enunciated like a true French despite the fact that she isn't one. Nicolas laughs, one that's so boisterously loud that it bounces off the walls of his bakery and Ruka can feel it underneath his feet.

"Aren't you something, _mademoiselle?_ I'm guessing... Yui's daughter? She looks like her brothers; the eyes. What's your name, little dove?" Nicolas leans forward so that his weight's mainly supported by the counter-top.

"Remi," she replies.

Nicolas claps his hands, delighted. "You really are a pretty one, Remi." He holds out a pink macaron in his outstretched palm and Remi's eyes twinkle. "Here, I just made a batch of them so have it while it's warm."

Remi looks up to her grandfather expectantly and when he gives her a nod of approval, she reaches out for the treat. "_Merci, monsieur Nicolas_."

Another one of Nicolas' laughter rips through the shop, empty but for the three. Ruka steps forward. "So I assume these are mine?" He touches the paper bags.

"Ah, _oui_. All yours." Nicolas pushes the bags towards Ruka and he scans the contents in them briefly. Nicolas' an honest man so there's no need for Ruka to worry. He lets go of Remi's hand for a moment to reach into his coat pocket for a few notes before depositing them onto the counter.

"Here you go, and for the treat." Ruka tosses a few coins but Nicolas is quick to refuse them.

"No no no, _monsieur Nogi_. That one's on me; keep the coins, _please_."

So Ruka places them back into his pocket and sends the baker a grin. "Thank you, Nicolas."

"It's always a pleasure." He gathers the bags into his arms, handing one to Remi and turn to leave the little shop, knowing full well that by ten o' clock there will be a line standing in front of it. There always has been for twenty years.

Once they're outside, Ruka relinquishes the bags to the waiting chauffeur. When his arms are free again, he goes onto his knees so that his gaze levels with Remi's. Ruka adjusts the scarf around her neck, pulling at it so that it's snugly secured. "Look at you," he says, his tone slightly reprimanding, "we have to keep you nice and warm or you might catch a cold." He pulls her cap lower and tugs her coat to wrap around her small frame. Remi lets him but there's a crease between her eyebrows.

"I'm not a kid," Remi says with a huff, a little defiant. Ruka laughs.

"Sure you aren't, _ma __chérie_," Ruka tells her with a kiss to the cheek then ushers her into the car, holding the door open as she climbs onto the leather seats. Once Ruka is in the car, Remi crawls over to him to sit on his lap. The two stare out the windows as the car begins to move.

"Look, Remi-chan, snow," Ruka tells her when he sees white fluff drifting lazily in the air, all the way to the ground. "_Neige_."

"_Neige_," Remi whispers, gaze glued to the window. A wave of inexplicable warmth washes over Ruka and he smiles at her fondly before patting her hair—black, just like her parents, none of Ruka's blonde. But it's okay, because it doesn't make her any less his grandchild, doesn't make her any less precious in his eyes.

* * *

Ruka's happiest at moments like these, as the whole family gathers in the living room after dinner, sitting by the fire on a cold and snowy night. Remi's brothers are huddled together, playing board games. Remi sits by them, observing as she tries to figure out on her own how the game works.

Their parents sit a few feet away, lounging on the couch as they watch TV, occasionally sharing a few words or subtle touches; on the shoulders, on the arms, Yui's swelling belly. As Ruka watches his son-in-law who's a splitting image of his father—jet black hair, blood red eyes, fine bone structure that Ruka knows Yui goes crazy over—and the tender look he has when the couple lock eyes, Ruka's glad. Glad to know that there's someone to love his baby girl more than Ruka; glad to know that his daughter is in the safest of hands.

There's a slight compression on the couch and Ruka looks over to find Hotaru easing herself into the seat, her fingers automatically curling around Ruka's when she edges close to him. Ruka stretches out an arm to circle it around Hotaru's shoulder and pull her into him. Even after so many years, Ruka never gets tired of looking at her, holding her close, kissing her lips. Hotaru's aged, half of her head has turned from black to silver, but she's far from old. Ruka doesn't think she'll ever get old, not while the fire still burns in her eyes.

"So how's Ryo?" Ruka asks once Hotaru has snuggled up comfortable against him.

"He's fine; still can't believe he's a father." Hotaru places her head against his shoulder like it belongs there.

He chuckles. "I'm not surprised. It took me two years to adjust to fatherhood when we had Kenzo." Ruka remembers all the sleepless night, diapers filled with poo, ear-splitting screams, puke everywhere. Truth be told, it still baffles him to think that he went through that ordeal three times.

Not that he regrets it or anything.

Now, all three of those screaming babies are all grown up, having families of their own, finally having a taste of what it was like for Ruka and Hotaru. He'd be lying if he says that he doesn't secretly relish in that thought.

Hotaru holds onto his arm. "What about you? Are you all right?" Ruka turns his face sideways so that he can look at Hotaru properly, notice the way her eyes catch the light from the flames, the same way they did all those years back with the fireworks when Hotaru agreed to marry him, or the time they sparkled from the sunlight as she stood at the altar, promising her life to Ruka, his to her. Sure her hair is white, her skin winkled here and there but she's still the same Hotaru Ruka fell in love with all those years back. Mother of his children, grandmother of their children.

One of the boys laughs and cheers when he wins the game, the other doesn't seem too happy with his lips pressed to a pout. Remi still looks puzzled, still trying to figure things out and Ruka thinks of the long journey ahead of her, how there's a lot more figuring out for her, for the three of them. Yui smiles and tightens the hold on her husband's fingers.

Ruka's happiest at moments like these. So he tells Hotaru, "I've never been better," meaning every word said.

* * *

**FIN**

* * *

**Finally after two years, twenty chapters plus one epilogue, we've come to the end of Million Dollar Ice Queen. I'd like to take this time to thank those of you who had been with this story since the very beginning, or after. Thank you for all the support, the comments, the story favourites, adding this to your alerts. Thank you for reading MDIQ, thank you for giving it your time, your attention. Honestly I don't think this story could have gone on for so long without all your support.**

**To be honest, I never expected to finish this when I started it because I never finish any of my WIPs. I had two of them going on when I started MDIQ, and both of them have been deleted because I've abandoned all hopes of completion for them. And what's funny is that I was more passionate about those two deleted stories than I was for MDIQ and the response for MDIQ was honestly unexpected and overwhelming. Sure I had thought about abandoning this story as well, but then I see a new review in my inbox, or a new follower and it restores my hopes a little, pushing me to forge on. And I did. And now we're here.**

**It's been a great ride, you guys and seriously, no words can convey my gratitude to all of you, all of you wonderful, wonderful readers.**

**So, a review for the last hurrah? And hopefully I'll see you guys again.**


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